


Stories Tell Us

by Cyndi



Series: Danceverse [21]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Abuse, Angst, Arthurian legend - Freeform, Caregiving, Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, First Kiss, First Period, Gaslighting, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Mental Illness, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Survival, parenting, suicidal thoughts mention, treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:05:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 93,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyndi/pseuds/Cyndi
Summary: We are not alone in how we feel. (Danceverse, OptimusxMikaela, post TLK)





	1. A Priori

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that this is so late. IRL issues and the research I needed to do made writing this take so much longer than I intended.
> 
> Major content warnings: Graphic violence, abuse (mention of physical, sexual, verbal, emotional and gaslighting), sexual harassment, suicidal ideation(mention) and catastrophic natural disasters.
> 
> Minor content warnings: Swearing, vomiting, ableist slurs, and (for those with gender dysphoria) menstruation.
> 
> The warnings cover the whole story.
> 
> Expect headcanons. Bring tissues. Now let's transform and roll out!

**Stories Tell Us**

Part I: _A Priori_

.o

.o

" _Have you ever felt it could all go away_  
if you blink?  
_If you never stop running you won't fall behind_ ,  
_so you think_.  
_And you wonder in your heart_ __  
if you're still not who you are,  
_who are you_?  
_Nothing's as it seems till it all falls apart_..."

\--Josh Groban, "Granted"

.o

Darkness turned everything into murky shadows. The absoluteness of it defied imagination.

Cold dryness seeped through Mikaela's skin. She stared at gibbous Jupiter, which took up half her visual field. Its cloud bands churned like river rapids vanishing towards blackness. The swirling Great Red Spot looked particularly angry.

Wait.

Space took less than two minutes to kill somebody, and exposure stole consciousness within fifteen seconds. Why was she still conscious? Why wasn't she suffocating? Wasn't her spit supposed to boil?

 _I wish I missed that science class_ , Mikaela thought morbidly. Her detachment towards herself didn't strike her as unusual.

Jupiter moved slowly aside. Optimus floated past its northern pole and accelerated towards a blinding glow appearing in the distance. Everything behind it warped like dented chrome, even the darkness.

"Optimus! Don't drink it!" Mikaela yelled, desperately kicking her feet in attempt to reach him. Tension tightened her stomach into painful knots. She didn't have time to notice her shouting made no sense. "Don't drink it! Don't drink it! You're going to--"

Too late.

Optimus' body stopped against the unfeeling blackness. Just an afterimage, something left behind when the last photons bounced off his armor. Time dilation shielded her from witnessing his dismembered atoms flying apart like a house in a tornado.

"No, no, no!" Mikaela screamed until her throat went raw.

The black hole belched in her face. Deadly radiation vaporized her skin.

.o

Something yanked at Mikaela's feet. She woke with a yelp. Thunder exploded directly overhead.

"Mom, it's time!" Elita's breathless voice merged into the newborn downpour hitting the roof. She zipped up the gray hoodie she wore over her clothes. "C'mon!"

Mikaela's heart raced as she glanced around at the dark master bedroom. The black hole was just her usual July fourth nightmares. She picked the sleep goop out of her eyes and smoothed her sloppy hair.

"I'll be right down."

"Okay."

Elita rushed away, her messy brown braid bouncing. She sounded like a twenty car pileup crashing down the stairs.

Lightning turned the windows white. Rolling thunder shook Mikaela's breastbone. She threw a light pink summer robe over her rumpled blue tunic and followed her daughter's path. Her bare feet slapped noisily on the smooth hardwood floor. The third stair creaked beneath her toes and the coldness of the thick wooden handrail did little to cool her worry.

Two brass gourd lamps sat on mahogany end tables framing the red Chesterfield sofa. Their pleated white coolie shades lit the sofa and fireplace mantle. Optimus wasn't there like she expected. She reached the bottom of the staircase, grabbed the fluted box newel with her left hand and swung herself in a hairpin turn without losing speed. Her new trajectory flung her towards the basement door, where she slowed and made another left to enter.

Tide laundry detergent scents filled her nose. She passed the alcove where the washer-dryer set sat tucked to the left of the door and peered into the basement's gray dimness.

Elita was glued to Optimus' side, her arms wrapped tight around his middle. Optimus had his left arm draped over her shoulders. He slumped in a side sitting position directly below the hopper window in the corner. Water droplets speckled the tiny window like constellations. Scratches on the wood paneling beneath it marked his fall.

"Open it when I'm gone," he said cryptically to Elita.

"Okay." Elita cupped his face between her hands. They bumped foreheads, nuzzled noses and gave each other a light peck on the mouth. Optimus' head flopped forward again as soon as she let it go.

Mikaela tied her robe shut as she descended the steep cement stairs into the basement. The frigid floor bit her feet. It was always cold in here, even during the summer. She wasted no time in straightening Optimus' legs to make him more comfortable. He emitted a soft grunt, like someone having a cramp massaged away. Hologram or not, sitting like that had to hurt.

"Hey, honey."

Optimus didn't raise his head, so Mikaela knelt and lifted it for him. He let it droop backwards against the wall behind him. His normally brilliant blue optics hardly lit his face.

"Wifey," he said affectionately, "I fell."

"Me, too, on my prom night."

The joke took a moment to register. His optics twinkled at the recollection. "I'm still experiencing that fall."

Heat rushed into her cheeks.

Optimus' joking demeanor dissolved. He picked his head up and looked into Mikaela's eyes.

"My hologram will shut off after I lose consciousness." His left optic twitched. "I won't contact you again until I deal with the Creators."

Elita frowned indignantly. "Why? Dad! You always call when you get somewhere."

Optimus blinked and his pupils shrank to bright pinpoints. "I can't risk them tracing my signal back to y--"

He yelped and lurched forward, clutching his chest.

Mikaela startled. "Optimus?"

Elita jerked her head up. "Dad!"

Another groan escaped him. He stuck the second knuckle of his index finger into his mouth and bit down. His pupils returned to their normal aperture and glowed dimmer than before. Dents marred his finger when he stopped biting it.

"Daddy," Elita petted the red Autobot symbol on his chest, "Are you okay?"

Optimus sounded strained, "I'm-- all right. My fuel pump shut down and m-my energon is cooling. The c-cold is mildly uncomfortable." His voice smoothed out and returned to its normal depth as he relaxed against the wall again. "I'll enter stasis lock momentarily. It's all right, Elita. Shhh, sweet-Spark, I'm fine."

Mikaela knew that hurt like hell. The barely noticeable quiver in his eyelids gave it away. He was in horrendous pain and shielding his little girl from seeing him suffer. Rather than give him an audio-full for it, she swooped forward and pressed her lips to his mouth. His armor was colder than the room.

"You're coming back when this is over," Mikaela said, meeting his gaze. She defaulted to a tone she reserved for an unruly Elita. "I'm not accepting _maybe_ or _I hope so_ or _no_ as answers. You're going to kick your Creators' asses and come right back. That's final."

Optimus blinked slowly, his optics quirking in an affectionate smile. "Mikaela, are you mothering me?"

"You're damn right I am." Her eyes welled over. "The only response I'll accept is _yes, mom_."

"In that case..." Wiper fluid tears beaded on his eyelids. He cupped her cheek in his palm and brushed his thumb across her lips. "Yes, mom."

Mikaela took his hand, kissed it and embraced him along with Elita. She tried in vain to will her body heat into him.

"I love you," Optimus said in her ear.

"I love you, too," Mikaela murmured against his shoulder.

He repeated it to Elita, who responded in kind.

Rain swished against the awning window. Optimus arched again, his optics flaring. They stayed bright, yet his inner and outer pupils dilated to their widest aperture.

"My optics are losing resolution. I can't see you."

" _I_ can see _you_." Elita moved her face near his. "You'll be okay, dad. You're the king of okay."

He shifted his gaze between Elita and Mikaela like he feared forgetting their faces the moment he stopped seeing them.

"We're right here." Mikaela leaned closer until his searching optics fixed on her. Keeping the lump in her throat in check used a strength she didn't know she possessed. Especially when she saw wiper fluid tears dribble onto his cheek plating. He _needed_ her to be strong, and right then she would do anything for him.

"Will you be all right?" asked Optimus.

"Shhh," Mikaela thumbed the tears off his frigid cheeks and held his right hand. "Worry about yourself."

He closed his fingers around hers. "I'm worried about _you_."

 _Optimus, you selfless son of a_...

"I'll be fine. I promise."

Tension left him, evidenced by his hydraulics hissing.

Elita picked his free hand up and gripped his thumb. "When people ask where you went, I'm gonna tell them you're saving the world. And someday, when I grow up, I'm gonna change the world so it's safe for Autobots again. 'Til all are one, right?"

Optimus's confident smile obliterated doubt's shadows.

"Until that day..." His voice wound down like a cassette player with dying batteries. "...'Til all-- are-- one..."

His face relaxed to deadpan and his optics faded. He closed them as his chin sank gracefully towards his chest.

"Dad," Elita sniffled.

Tears escaped onto Mikaela's cheeks. Everything between her chest and throat ached to cry, but she refused to give in to it. She couldn't remember the last time Optimus looked so peaceful. Crying because she missed him seemed selfish, so she told herself to be grateful that he entered stasis-lock without a struggle.

"G'night, honey," she whispered in his audio. "I'll see you soon."

Thunder crackled and wind rattled the hopper window.

The wiper fluid on Optimus' eyelids crystallized. Fine white fern patterns appeared on his armor. Frost dotted his windshields and windows. Deep space frigidness radiated off his body. He was so cold it burned to touch him. Mikaela reluctantly laid his hand in his lap and sat back on her heels.

Movement off to the side caught her eye. Annoyed, she pushed her fingers through her messy hair.

"El, what are you doing?"

"I want to make him comfy."

"He doesn't know the difference."

" _I_ do!"

"Then hurry up before you stick to him."

Mikaela helped Elita lay Optimus on his back next to the wall. His joints froze stiff like rigor mortis, and moving them required tremendous effort. He seemed so heavy with the weight of the world embedded in his shoulders.

Elita heaved his sword onto his chest. She pointed the sharp end towards his feet and folded his hands on the pommel.

"He looks like King Arthur."

Mikaela draped an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "Sleeping until it's time to be a hero again."

Optimus' hologram pixilated like a bad digital TV signal and winked out. The chill in the room dissipated. Brilliant lightning and bone-shaking thunder raged at his departure.

.o

 _Hours earlier_...

To Mikaela, nothing looked cuter than Elita asking Optimus to braid her hair. She sat at the kitchen table, calmly eating a blueberry muffin while he stood behind her to do his thing.

Some twelve year olds withered if their parents dared look at, touch, kiss or hug them in public. Not so for Elita. Maybe Optimus' influence helped her grow into an openly affectionate girl. But man, she had a mean streak if she found out somebody attacked a person incapable of defending themselves, especially Cybertronians. She didn't care that it caused some of her peers to laugh at her or call her _robot girl_ ; she held her ground and backed up her beliefs.

Elita leaned back when Optimus asked her to. She grew her brunette hair to her mid-back. Mikaela let her get blonde highlights when school let out for the summer. They looked gorgeous.

And Optimus was as good at doing hair as he was at cooking. He used the soft-bristled hairbrush to smooth everything when he wove more and more strands together against Elita's scalp.

"Almost ready to zoom," Optimus said. "Elita, am I pulling?"

"Nope." Elita smiled.

His hands paused at the nape of her neck. He brushed the three separated locks a few times to remove any lingering tangles.

Mikaela grabbed a sour green apple from the bowl by the sink, crossed around the counter and leaned on the kitchen table to watch.

Optimus stuck a sparkly red hair band in his mouth to keep his hands free, hooked two locks of Elita's hair around the end joints of his left index and middle fingers and draped the third over his right index fingertip.

Then, magic.

His hands became scintillating silver blurs alternating from palm up and palm down. Elita's hair wove perfectly together between them. He could've passed for a professional who braided people's hair on tropical beaches, except he created one large braid instead of several small ones.

Mikaela's cheeks warmed when Optimus winked flirtatiously at her. He wove the braid in less than ten seconds, pulled the sparkly band out of his mouth and added it to Elita's hair with three quick finger flicks. A few passes with the brush tamed the frizzy tail.

"Your French braid is complete."

"Awesome. Thanks, dad."

Elita looked up when Optimus looked down. They kissed each other's foreheads. She uncurled from her chair and finished her muffin on the way to the kitchen sink.

Optimus peered at Mikaela. He let his own mouth fall open and pushed it shut again with his hand when he caught her gawking. Mikaela faked an offended sneer and took a bite of her apple.

"That gets cooler every time I see you do it," she said.

He passed his hand over the top of his head as if slicking back hair and sat in the chair Elita vacated. "It's better to be cool than a cube."

"Square," Elita called from the sink.

Optimus squinted without breaking his smile, "Mikaela, we're raising a pedant."

"I _heard_ that."

Mikaela put on her best 'mom' voice, "Don't you have a disaster zone of a room to clean up?"

"It's not a disaster zone, I'm building a secret military base," Elita huffed when she passed them.

"Smart-aft," muttered Optimus. He rolled his optics exactly when Elita did and counted to three with his fingers.

"As if!" Elita shot back. "It's not smart, it's a genius."

"Because you're wearing genes that we gave you." Optimus rested his elbow on the table, propped his cheek against his fist and perfectly mirrored Elita's irritated 'whatever' hand-wave.

Keeping a straight, stern face used everything Mikaela had. "Enough, El. I don't care if you're hiding Area 51 under your floor. Your room's a hot mess."

"Can it wait until after the picnic?"

" _No_." Optimus and Mikaela said at the same time.

"Ugh! Fine."

Footsteps thudded up the stairs and her bedroom door banged.

Mikaela gently kicked Optimus' shin under the table once she finished her apple. "Thanks for the non-help, boss bot."

He shrugged. "You had it under control."

" _You_ convinced her to start this cleanup operation in the first place."

Thanks to Optimus, Elita spent a week going through her belongings and discarding anything she no longer had a use for. Items with sentimental value survived the purge. Her bedroom was a minefield of trash bags and items piled up in seemingly random order. There used to be a floor in there, once, but it hadn't been clearly seen for the past seven days.

Optimus rubbed his index finger across his chin. He stared blankly, his optics dimming until they shut off. Mikaela groaned mentally. She noted the time on her phone, calmly crunched her apple and watched him slump forward.

These episodes weren't cause for alarm unless they went on longer than twenty minutes. So far, that hadn't happened.

Five minutes later, he shuddered. She knew he wasn't alert by his vacant expression and dull speech.

"We're supposed to pick Elita up from Lupe's at three o'clock."

"Honey, that was last week."

"What?" He tried to sit up properly, but his head weighed more than he could lift.

"It's July fourth."

"That can't be correct...we were just..."

"You're having a recharge attack."

"That-- ugh..." His hands splayed against the tabletop. "I can't keep up with you right now."

She rubbed his hand. "I know. It's okay. Just relax."

"What date is it?"

"July fourth."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Why?"

"I don't know." He lifted his head by leaning back in the kitchen chair. "Did you say it's July fourth?"

"Yup."

Optimus' optics dimmed again. Mikaela grabbed his shoulder and directed him forward. He managed to fold his arms on the tabletop before his lights went out. The clang of his head landing on his forearms sounded like her heart cracking.

 _Okay, universe_. She glared accusingly at the ceiling. _What next, huh? What bullshit are you dropping on him next?_

Naturally, the universe didn't answer.

"I hate these," Optimus grunted.

Mikaela shoved her anguish aside. "Are you back with me?"

He kept his face nested in his forearms, but gave a thumbs up. Splitting headaches followed his recharge attacks. Light added to his misery. He straightened when it passed and looked down at the open _Car and Driver_ magazine he collapsed on. Mikaela had drawn little blue hearts around the cherry red GMC Topkick c6500. A truck way out of her league right now, but a girl could dream.

Optimus cocked a brow ridge. Perhaps the truck reminded him of Ironhide, too.

"I won't be able to resist stasis lock much longer," he said.

She gnawed her bottom lip and frowned. "How long do you have?"

The way he glanced down at his hands warned of an answer she wasn't going to like. He refocused on her face.

"Fourteen hours. Any longer, and I risk permanent damage."

Mikaela glanced at the time on her phone. Nine in the morning. Her stomach knotted.

Optimus mentioned the possibility of using all his energon to keep warm in space. Running completely dry didn't mean immediate death any more than an empty gas tank meant a car ceased functioning forever, but it put his health at serious risk.

Energon was an "energy state" catalyst that allowed a bot to stay conscious and maintain their self-repair systems. Nanites were one of their most vital components, second only to Spark chambers, CPUs and fuel pumps. Those tireless microscopic workers prevented moving parts from degrading, healed most injuries and tore apart microscopic contaminants in wounds, tubes, pipes or hoses.

"This can't be happening." Mikaela slipped her fingers into her brunette hair and massaged her scalp. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed how slick it felt.

"I wish it wasn't." Optimus gazed at her with raised brow ridges, a look that apologized for every disappointment his departure incurred.

"Elita is gonna have a herd of cows over this." She groaned under her breath at the thought.

"I know." He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "I'm leaning towards secrecy until after the fireworks tonight."

"She'll be upset that you waited to tell her."

"Mmhmm. Catch twenty-two." His brow ridges settled in a line. He simulated a sigh and rose to stand. "I should assist her cleanup operation before the bed disappears."

"Heh! Yeah, good idea." Mikaela slid off her chair and stretched her arms over her head. "I'm gonna take a shower. I feel like a grease monkey in all the wrong ways."

Optimus caught her in his arms and waltz-dipped her. He purred salaciously in her ear, "Grease is an excellent lubricant. _Rawr!_ "

Ooh, his deep voice did things to her body when he talked to her like _that_.

"You're horrible." She laughed and slapped his shoulder when he stood them up again.

"I practice daily." He waggled his brow ridges as he led her through a few saucy tango steps. Afterward, he embraced her close against his chest. His warm armor was porcelain smooth to her cheek. "It may be wise to keep our minds in the here and now rather than what awaits us in fourteen hours. Live moment to moment."

"Easier said than done."

"I know." Optimus gave her a light squeeze. His tone lightened, "I'll inform you if we need to call a bomb squad into Elita's room."

Mikaela held onto the hug a second longer than he did. She crinkled her nose. "Good luck."

With that, he beamed his hologram upstairs. Sometimes, she envied his ability to do that. She took the long way via the stairs and closed the bathroom door behind her.

Twenty minutes later, she blow-dried her hair and reached for the clothes hanging off the back of the bathroom door.

Dressing slightly fancier than usual helped Mikaela feel better. She pulled up the back zipper of her midnight blue flutter-sleeve tunic, defined her waistline with a thin white belt and donned dark red leggings. A simple ponytail emphasized her neck. White wedge sandals put her stars and stripes toenail art on display. Gold shimmer eye shadow, rosy blush and red lip gloss brought out her sharp features. To complete her look, she added a pair of sparkly earrings.

Optimus gave her these earrings for Mother's day. Tiny crystal stars danged off the ends of tiered gold chains. The faceted stars caught the light like prisms.

Mikaela moved the earrings box back into her room. She had a simple oak dresser with brass handles. The top right-hand drawer housed all her jewelry in boxes or cloth bags.

Something thudded several times before loudly going bang. The whole upstairs floor shook!

"Finally!" Optimus said, "Parental achievement unlocked after twelve years!"

"Oh, dang!" Elita gasped. "Let me get that."

"Wait, it's-- ow! It's stuck!"

"No, it's not. Oof! Okay, I guess it is. It's _really_ stuck!"

They cracked up.

Okay, laughing didn't sound like an emergency. Mikaela decided to check on them anyway. She approached Elita's room and peeked in because the door was open.

Everything looked almost impeccable again, save for the black trash bags piled by the closet. Optimus sat on the floor, clutching at his left knee while doubled over. Elita leaned against the wall with a red face and laugh-tears in her eyes.

"What's going on in here?" asked Mikaela.

Neither Optimus nor Elita could answer right away. Instead, Optimus lifted up the leg he held onto. There was a green Lego brick wedged in the treads at the "heel' end of his foot. He covered his face and stomped his right foot on the floor while he laughed.

"Dad stepped on a Lego and did this!" Elita held her left foot and hopped around before plopping onto her butt on the floor next to Optimus. "He looked like Wile E. Coyote!"

"Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Mud," Optimus snickered.

"Oh, you _poor baby_ ," Mikaela snickered. Their laughter was contagious. "Okay, gimme your foot, I'll pull that out."

"As you wish," said Optimus. He put his right foot flat on the floor and crossed his legs so his left ankle rested on his right knee. His sole treads were already spread out as far as possible.

Pulling on the Lego didn't budge it an inch.

"I'll try pliers." She crinkled her nose, "You're lucky it's not up your aft."

Elita giggled at that. Mikaela playfully rolled her eyes and ventured downstairs. She returned after retrieving her needle nose pliers from the basement toolbox.

"All right." Mikaela poked the pliers between the treads in Optimus' foot and grabbed the Lego brick. "Ready?"

"No," he said, "but do it anyway."

"Your funeral. On three." Mikaela held the rubbery red pliers handles with both hands. "One, two, three!"

"Ow!" Optimus squeezed his optics shut.

She toppled onto her butt and triumphantly held up the Lego brick. "Got it!"

Elita cackled at both of them. "I can't believe it took you that long to step on a Lego, dad. Was it worth the pain?"

"Mmhmm." Optimus rubbed his sore foot and squinted one optic. "Now put that away. It isn't an experience I want to repeat."

"Is that why you didn't flicker your hologram?" asked Elita.

"Yes."

"Figures." Mikaela, a veteran who survived stepping on at least twenty of those damn things, bit her lip to avoid a rude laugh. She turned to Elita instead. "El, are you done with cleanup?"

"Yeah." Elita dropped the wayward Lego brick in a bag by her bed.

"Okay. Toss the bags in my truck. I'll drop them off at Volunteers of America on the way to work."

Mikaela couldn't make herself say _tomorrow_ without bitter coldness. Luckily, Elita didn't notice the lapse in her demeanor. She grabbed two stuffed trash bags that crinkled while she bumped down the stairs, her French braid swinging behind her.

Optimus took the hand Mikaela offered and got to his feet. A smile tilted his optics. "You're wearing my Mother's day present."

Warmth suffused her cheeks. They were about to kiss when Elita bounded in to grab more bags. A resonantly distinctive Godzilla roar filled the room. Her ringtone. She swiped her phone off the dresser, twisted her fist around the top of a heavier trash bag and answered the call while she dragged it through the door.

"Hello? Hey! Talia! Yeah, I'm coming to the picnic. What're you bringing?" Her voice faded around the corner, "Awesome! Yeah! Dad made potato salad and..."

Optimus snapped his fingers, which made a clanging noise. "That reminds me, I should get the cooler ready for transport."

Mikaela covered a yawn. "Do you have enough ice?"

"Yeah."

He paused at Elita's dresser to shake the cheap snow globe she kept there. Pink glitter swirled around the plastic moose standing in the center.

Elita thudded her way upstairs. She grabbed the bag Mikaela handed her while chattering away on her phone.

.o

Mikaela's watch showed noon when Optimus parked the Silverado in the centermost parking space by the grassy curb.

The picnic took place in a public park twenty miles from the cabin. It boasted a playground, basketball courts, handball courts, tennis courts, and a sprawling grass field shaded by thick, bushy California pepper and Holly oak trees. Parents lounged among the wooden picnic tables, which were arranged in neat semicircular rows in the most shaded spots.

A group of preteen girls gathered around a volleyball net being set up in the grass by the basketball courts.

Talia was the most easily recognizable of the bunch because of her pale skin and bald head. Lupe, a tall Mexican girl with her dark hair tied back in a bun, held the volleyball.

Predictably, Elita exited the Silverado and bolted towards them as soon as Optimus turned off the engine.

"We got dumped," Optimus said jokingly. He checked the rear view mirror. "Whoops, I better change."

The truck's tinted windows concealed him as he shifted to his human hologram. This time, he manifested an absolutely amazing bald-faded pompadour undercut with red, white and blue streaks amidst the 'natural' light brown. His facial stubble looked typical of a man who went two days between shaves. Silver-rimmed glasses sat atop his nose, a perfect frame for blue eyes like Elita's.

For clothes, he chose black denim shorts, a dark red T-shirt sporting a bald eagle carrying an American flag and black fisherman sandals. He wanted to show off that he "worked out" a bit. His muscles weren't body builder huge, but they showed and looked nice.

"I hope I'm dressed sufficiently for the weather."

"Yup. You look sexy," Mikaela winked at him.

His grin could light solar systems. He waggled his thick eyebrows. "Just for you, wifey."

They laughed and got out to grab their picnic supplies. Somebody's barbecue grill added a charcoal note over the scrumptious fresh cut grass. Humidity made being in the sun feel like a sauna. Mikaela nudged Optimus towards the shade.

Somebody's basketball clinked through a chain net. The ball bounced, shoes thumped on blacktop and boys shouted at each other.

Erin O'Clery, a statuesque redhead wearing an off-white sundress and straw sun hat with a pastel blue ribbon, slid her box of fruit cups aside. She wore a red flip-flop sandal on one foot and a black medical boot on the other.

Mikaela noticed Erin's daughter, Julia, sitting by her feet. Julia's hair was as red as her mom's and cut in a cute, messy bob. She hugged a worn stuffed brown rabbit to her chest and stayed intent on the iPad in her lap, which played _Sesame Street_. Her pink and purple jumper and pale green Capri shorts had a few blades of grass stuck to them. Elmo's smiling face adorned the tops of her black Mary Jane shoes.

Optimus gratefully set his cooler down on the vacated table space. He extracted the huge bowl of potato salad and two jumbo family-sized bags of cool ranch Doritos. A small cooler inside the big one was empty, but would contain "food" manifested via hologram whenever he wanted to mimic eating.

"Thirsty?" Mikaela tilted the big cooler to show Erin the bottles of Gatorade, Aquafina water and Elita's favorite Snapple iced tea.

"Oh, thank you!" Erin plucked up an Aquafina. She passed it to Julia, who turned her head to take a sip. Julia's eyes were as green as her mother's.

"Looks like quite a turnout," Mikaela said. She nudged Optimus. "Honey, check your blood sugar."

Erin glanced at Optimus when he regarded Mikaela.

"Ah, thank you," he said.

Optimus produced an Accu-Chek glucose monitor from his pocket. They always made a point to do this around people whenever abundant food was available. Having witnesses prevented unwanted questions when other people realized he wasn't eating from everyone else's dishes.

He noticed Erin peering at him and said, "I'm diabetic."

"Hi, Diabetic." She spoke with an Irish accent, "I'm Erin."

It took Optimus a moment to get the joke. "Actually, my name is Owen." He nodded towards Mikaela, smiling, "I'm hers."

"Oh! Mikaela's husband-- Hi!" Erin beamed up at him. "It's nice to meet you in person. Mikaela says you're busy most of the time."

"I am." Optimus nodded. "I'm a truck driver when I'm not deployed. It keeps me busy."

Perfect cover for his mysterious absences on the rare occasions Elita had friends over. One of his greatest fears was going into flashbacks or having anxiety attacks in their presence, so he turned his hologram off until Elita called to tell him they left. Elita made it easier for him by going to her friends' houses more often.

Erin adjusted her hat. "That sounds like quite the lonely job."

"Sometimes." He shrugged, "But family is a phone call away."

The girls by the volleyball net broke up into two teams. Elita, Lupe and Talia on one team, three other girls whose names Mikaela didn't know on the other. The competition looked friendly, judging by their laughter and clumsy volleyball skills.

Optimus eyed the game. "Are any of your children playing?"

Erin shook her head. "Nah. Dave is on the basketball court. He's wearing the yellow striped shirt."

Now Mikaela recognized the tall, strawberry-blonde boy. Elita chased him halfway around school once because he said Transformers were monsters.

"And this," Erin indicated the girl sitting by her feet, "is Julia."

Julia didn't acknowledge him while being introduced.

"Hello, Julia." Optimus regarded the girl. He tilted his head at the lack of response, "Is she hard of hearing?"

"Autistic," Erin replied.

"Ah." He sat on the grass beside her. Rather than try to seek her eyes, he gazed at the iPad with her and spoke more softly. "My name is Owen. I'm Elita's dad. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. If you don't mind my asking, how old are you, Julia?"

Julia tapped the screen to pause the video and counted on her fingers. She held up eight and stuck out her tongue.

"Wow! That's eight birthday cakes! Do you think the Count would enjoy that?" He adopted the Count's accent, "One cake, _two_ cakes, three cakes! Ah-ah-ah!"

"Ah-ah-ah!" Julia copied his Count laugh.

Mikaela snorted at that. Geez, she hadn't heard Optimus do his Count impression since Elita was three.

He went on, "I suppose you can tell the Count is my favorite. Who's yours?"

Julia bent lower over the iPad, giggling. She uncurled her right leg and wiggled her foot.

"Elmo, huh?" Optimus bent his knees and rested his chin on them. "You're right. Elmo is the best."

"Elmo is the best!" Julia tapped her stuffed rabbit against her chest and set it in her lap. "Elmo is the best!"

She bent her arms and flapped her hands as she looked over at Optimus. Her smile began in her bright green eyes and spread to her lips.

He raised his eyebrows and grinned back. "Hello, little lady."

"Hello, little lady! Hello!"

Julia dumped the iPad aside, grabbed her bunny and bolted towards the slides. She guffawed throughout her sprint.

"Whoa!" Optimus watched her go. "She's a speedster!"

Erin laughed and wiggled her toes. "Maybe she'll be a track and field star in high school."

She scooped up the iPad and closed the cover. Three large stickers decorated it: A rainbow colored lemniscate for _Neurodiversity_ , a red shoe for _Red Instead_ , and a blue puzzle piece crossed out with a big red X that said _Boycott Autism Speaks_ underneath. She tucked the iPad into her beaded brown canvas bag and followed her daughter, her progress slowed by the fracture boot.

The bench Mikaela sat on shifted slightly forward when Optimus slid next to her. "It's hard to believe Elita was that young, once."

Nostalgia washed over Mikaela. She patted his knee in agreement.

More parents and kids arrived. Car engines, the clunk of coolers and more voices filled the background.

Then a tenor voice with a strong New York accent shouted over the general noise. "Howdy! Hi! Hey!"

"Ugh..." Mikaela silently gritted her teeth.

The Pagonis family was the richest family at Elita's school, and boy did they love showing it off. Seeing them make a public appearance in such a "lowly" place made Mikaela roll her eyes.

Maxwell "Max" Pagonis was 'husband next door' handsome, like a stocky brown-eyed James Dean with curly black hair cropped short, a square jaw and a cleft chin. Gel kept his curls combed back off his face. He wore a thin gold neck chain that glistened near the collar of his crisp white polo shirt and the creases in his white dress pants were sharp enough to cut diamonds.

Sherry, his aerobics instructor of a wife, trailed behind him wearing a shiny sleeveless jumpsuit printed like an American flag. A filmy white scarf protected her braided, dye-fried blonde hair from the sun. Her outfit looked more fitting for a NASCAR racetrack than a family picnic. Watching her struggle through the grass on her gold spike heel sandals was almost funny. Mikaela didn't bother getting up to help.

Their son, Tyson, dragged a cooler on a red wagon. He inherited his dad's cleft chin and curly black hair, but had his mom's delicate lips. The poor kid's dark hair was slicked back with enough gel to kill the ozone layer. His crimson silk button-down shirt, designer jeans and pristine white shoes didn't seem comfortable or proper for rough and tumble play in humid weather.

"You guys got it covered?" Max asked his family.

"Yeah," Tyson grunted.

"Yes, dear."

Sherry and Tyson got busy setting out what they brought. Homemade fruit salad, finger sandwiches and pink lemonade. Mikaela accepted a cup of lemonade and sipped. Cold and sweet with a tart aftertaste. Optimus politely waved off a finger sandwich offered by Sherry. Max swiped it and ate it instead.

Tyson chomped a handful of Doritos and headed towards the volleyball net. The girls absorbed him and any other kid who approached into the game.

The bench vibrated when Max plopped down next to Optimus and let his knees spread apart until they bumped into Optimus' legs. He rested his elbows on the table behind him and sighed. His Old Spice aftershave clashed with the smells of charcoal and fresh cut grass.

Optimus, who had his legs crossed like Mikaela, uncrossed them to assert his space and didn't let Max invade it. They turned their heads and silently sized each other up.

"Max, I don't think you had a chance to meet my husband." Mikaela said to diffuse the awkwardness. "Max, this is Owen. Owen, this is Max."

"I see. The mysterious husband appears!" Max reached over for a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Owen! So, you're military, too?"

"Max, nice to make your acquaintance." Optimus uncrossed his right arm. He met the handshake, pumped it once with gusto and released. "My work is top secret. I'm not permitted to discuss it. Let's say it's Black Ops and leave it there."

"Ahh, hey, I get it. I do the same, 'xcept I can't name my department. It's new. So..." Max gestured to the volleyball game, "which one's yours, again?"

"Elita. She is the beautiful girl with a French braid." Optimus smiled brightly even though his body tensed like he wanted to squirm out of his holographic skin. _Something_ about this guy had him on edge.

"Oh?" Max refocused on Optimus' face, squinting. "Your daughter has your eyes. That's a pretty rare shade of blue."

Amusement flashed across Optimus' expression. "People say that a lot."

The bench creaked. Max shifted his weight. "Hey, uh... Are you sure you should let your kid walk around dressed like _that?_ "

Optimus' brow knit. "What is the matter with her clothing?"

Max dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "Her outfit is so revealing. You shouldn't let a girl that young make herself such a tempting distraction."

Mikaela bristled as she eyed her twelve-year-old daughter's chosen Fourth of July outfit. A white halter top decorated with red sequin stars, blue board shorts and red flip-flops. Like a chrysalis turning transparent to reveal the growing butterfly's wings, Elita showed hints of the woman she was growing up into beneath her childhood stubbiness.

Talia, a very petite and thin girl due to chemotherapy, wore a red, white and blue tie-dyed tank top, frayed cutoff jean shorts and white gladiator sandals. Lupe, the most physically developed of Elita's friends, clothed herself in blue ballet flats, a loose white fishnet crop top over a dark red sports bra with a white Nike swoosh across the front and a short white trumpet skirt. Elita's outfit wasn't any skimpier than her friends.

Optimus stood up. His abrupt movement shook the whole picnic table. He recaptured Max's hand as if to shake it again and loomed into the other man's personal space. The amiable features of his human hologram twisted in a sneer. If the arch of his frown and the blaze in his bright blue eyes didn't express his rage enough, his voice certainly did. His tone could freeze the sun.

"You better teach your son to keep his hands off _my_ little girl, because I taught her how to kick his teeth in if he doesn't." Optimus squeezed Max's hand until his fingertips turned red, "Now, care explain to me why you're sexualizing her outfit when all she did was dress for warm weather?"

Gasping, Max grasped Optimus' wrist in failed attempt to break his grip. He gulped, daring to make eye contact again, and twitched a nervous smile.

"Aw, c'mon, I-I didn't mean anything by it. I was just poking fun. Right?" Now he tried appealing to Mikaela, who glowered.

" _I'm_ not laughing." Optimus growled. "And if this hand or your son's hand ever touch my daughter without her permission, I will break the arm it is attached to." He gave a final squeeze to show the seriousness of that threat and released. "Have I made myself clear?"

Max leaned back, rubbing his sore knuckles. "Easy! I ain't gonna touch--"

"Yes or no, Max. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yeah! Okay, buddy. Fine. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, because I'm not the problem." Optimus pushed his glasses up on his nose. He pinned Max with a final glare and walked off towards the restrooms.

"He's nuts," Max muttered.

Mikaela scowled at the pompous man before jogging after Optimus. Her mind raced. What brought _that_ on?

She found him leaning against the brick divider wall that hid the bathroom doors from the general public. He had his arms crossed and his head bowed.

Harsh sun beat down on the white cement and bounced off the bricks. Sweat beaded on Mikaela's face.

"Hey," she said softly, "Are you okay?"

"No," Optimus perfectly simulated a human sigh. "It's _him_." He placed a hand on his chest. "I know that hand and voice anywhere. I almost broke his arm, and he wouldn't have known why."

"Wait--" Mikaela's brain did a wipe-rewind until she realized the context in his statement. "He's the bastard who...?"

He just looked at her, and she saw the affirmative in his deadpan expression. Human hologram or no, his eyes remained the most evocative part of his face for anyone who knew how to decipher them. His entire body flinched when she took a step closer. Touch wasn't a good idea right now. He linked his hands together on the back of his head and paced in a circle, muttering to himself.

Guaranteeing he felt safe became her top priority. She leaned on the men's bathroom doorframe so she wasn't blocking the only exit. He stopped pacing.

Mikaela spread her hands. "There's a bright side to this. You didn't freeze up in flashbacks."

"I did that after I arrived here. I suppose the victory is holding off the reaction until I was able to 'have' it privately." Optimus took his glasses off long enough to rub the inner corners of his eyes. "Mikaela, I'm sorry if I've spoiled the picnic for you."

Typical Optimus, he was a mess and he still worried about her.

"You didn't." She fumed inside. "And you don't have to deal with Max. I'll fix that prick for you."

"Mikaela..."

"He's gotta pay, so I'll make sure he pays. I know where to hit jerks like that so it hurts. Stay here until you're calm, okay?"

"What are you planning?"

"Something that'll make him sweat."

"Mikaela--"

"Honey, I'll knock one of his teeth out if I don't do this instead."

Mikaela pushed off the doorframe and walked with determination towards the parking lot. First, she reached into the bed of her Silverado for a white beach towel, which she used to hide the box of tampons and bottle of bleach she pulled out from between two gray duffle bags. The huge duffle bags were secured inside black crates in the truck bed. They held essentials-- nonperishable food, water, clothes, medicine, toiletries, sleeping bags and the like. Bug-out supplies, basically. Two boxed tents disguised everything as camping stuff. A ratty red sunglasses case containing cash fell out of a bag, so she stuffed it back in beside a cleaned out sunscreen tube that concealed gift cards and coupons. Her dad taught her never to hide money in obvious places.

Cemetery Wind and Earth's military forces had joined together to form the Transformers Reaction Force, or TRF. Civilians weren't supposed to know that, but Ultra Magnus did a fantastic job of scouring the dark web and intercepting communications on encrypted channels. Every Cybertronian on Earth outside of Cuba was in danger. People closely associated with them disappeared without a trace. Being ready to bail any time became mandatory.

Speaking of military, Max was foolish enough to park his plum Rolls Royce-- a beautiful Phantom Extended Wheelbase-- right beside Mikaela's gunmetal gray Silverado.

All cars were parked perpendicular to the picnic area, so nobody except people exiting the restrooms had a clear view between vehicles. Mikaela glanced around, moved like she was pulling her leggings down and dropped the box of tampons near her feet. Grabbing Max's car while pretending to lose her balance let her see whether or not Max turned the alarm on. No warning chirps. No blaring siren sounds. Nothing. Silence.

Who would be crass enough to steal a fancy car like that from a picnic anyway? Too bad Max didn't count on _this_.

Mikaela cast one more glance for privacy, flipped the gas tank cover open, unscrewed the cap and let the towel conceal her lower half as she dumped all the bleach into Max's gas tank. She wiped every surface she touched with the towel to remove her fingerprints and used her elbow to close the gas tank flap. The tampons got tossed back into the truck bed. She feigned pulling her leggings up and covered the bleach bottle with the towel.

Bleach sped up the oxidation of the metal inside the gas tank. The result? An engine randomly cutting out due to corrosion and rust particles clogging fuel injectors and pipes on every restart. Max put a lot of money and pride into his car. Materialistic people like him experienced existential dread whenever anything threatened their prized possessions.

Mikaela blew the plum Rolls Royce a kiss. She joined Optimus by the restrooms again.

"What did you do?" He asked, his voice noticeably calmer.

"I bleached Max's gas tank."

He raised a brow. "He won't come to harm, will he?"

"Nah. His wallet and pride will."

Optimus shook his head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Mikaela leaned on his side as they stepped around the wall.

A high pitched scream rang across the playground. Not Elita's, thank God, but alarming nonetheless. Mikaela spotted Tyson fleeing the swing set with Julia's bunny. Julia thrashed in her mother's arms, screeching like somebody ripped her limbs off.

"Tyson!" Mikaela shouted.

Tyson sprinted past the volleyball net. Elita kicked off her flip-flops and shot after him like a rocket. She hurled the volleyball in his path, making him break his stride just long enough for her to catch up.

"Drop that bunny!" Elita snarled.

Tyson stood six inches taller than her, and she sneered up at him like he was pond scum.

Julia's screaming reached a new octave. She broke away from Erin and ran straight at Tyson.

"Julia!" Erin cried, unable to run because of her broken foot. "Tyson! Stop it!"

Tyson only giggled when Julia tearfully held up her arms in a silent request for her prized possession.

"Nuh-uh! Finders, keepers, retard!"

Julia wailed and jumped up and down.

Elita got in front of her. "Give Fluffster back, now!"

Tyson made Julia's bunny wave its arms in a total mockery of how Julia flapped her hands. He pointed at her, laughing. "Stop being retarded and I'll think about it!"

Julia pushed by Elita and sank her teeth into Tyson's extended finger.

"Ow!" He yanked his hand away, wide-eyed. "She bit me!"

Julia sat down and banged her head against her knees. Her panicked bawling echoed off the distant handball courts. Erin's straw hat fell off as she dove next to her daughter, pulled her close and cradled her to stop the head banging. Julia flailed in her arms, inconsolable.

Erin scowled at Tyson and said something too quiet to hear.

"Should we intervene?" Optimus whispered to Mikaela.

"Not yet." Mikaela hissed back.

Tyson inched backwards like he intended to flee again. Talia curled her lip and Lupe frowned. Both abandoned the paused volleyball game, jogged across the grass and stood on either side of Tyson. Now he had nowhere to run.

Talia asked Erin something inaudible, and Erin shook her head.

"C'mon, Tyson!" Talia hollered. She peered across the grass at Sherry and Max, but neither responded. They smirked as if they enjoyed the show.

Elita stepped forward until her forehead almost brushed Tyson's chin. "Give. Fluffster. Back.

"Okay."

Tyson slapped her face with the bunny instead.

Optimus' eyes widened. Mikaela's blood boiled, but she knew the brat sealed his fate by striking the first blow.

"That's it!" Elita slammed her fist against her palm.

Tyson swung at her again. Elita ducked and lunged. Her uppercut nailed his solar plexus. He doubled forward on her fist like a suitcase. Lupe pushed him sideways, making him topple in a sniveling heap. Talia snatched the plush bunny from his limp hand and handed it to Elita. Elita stroked it like a living thing able to feel pain and gently delivered it to Julia.

"It's okay, Julia. Fluffster didn't get hurt. He's okay, see?"

Julia squeezed Elita's hand and pressed Fluffster against her own face. Her bawling quieted to sobbing. Erin relaxed visibly. She helped Julia release her grip on Elita.

Lupe knelt beside Erin while keeping an eye on Tyson. Talia headed for the swings and picked up Erin's canvas bag. She checked to ensure nothing went missing as she brought it back to its rightful owner. Elita retrieved Erin's lost hat. All three girls helped her stand up again. Julia stayed seated on the ground, her face hidden against Fluffster's belly.

Erin asked Lupe something too quiet to hear. Lupe nodded once and spoke to Elita. Talia threw her hands in the air in a _whatever_ gesture. Elita shrugged, brushed herself off, and they separated.

Erin coaxed Julia back to the picnic tables. Talia and Lupe chattered animatedly about what happened. Elita found her discarded flip-flops, picked up the volleyball and the trio rejoined the game.

Tyson twisted onto his hands and knees, coughing. The kids on the basketball court laughed at him.

"That's why she gets in trouble at school," Mikaela said to Optimus.

"Mmhmm." He cocked his head. "In this case, I believe justice was delivered properly. Ah, there goes Max. Perhaps he'll straighten Tyson out."

"Hardly." Mikaela could almost predict Max's reaction.

Max hauled Tyson up by his shirt. "You let a girl beat you up? What's wrong with you?"

"That fool...he is teaching his son to--"

Mikaela gripped Optimus' hand to halt him from intervening. People like Max were set in their ways. The only way to deal with them was tolerating their presence as civilly as possible.

Tyson wandered off towards the handball courts, his pristine clothes rumpled and grass-stained. Max and Sherry moved one table over from their previous location. Mikaela noticed Max shooting Optimus odd looks while they reclaimed the picnic bench.

"Boys will be boys, eh?" Max said, which sent Sherry giggling.

"No. That was bullying, and it is unacceptable." Optimus replied coolly, ignoring Sherry's antics. "I question the character of parents who allow such behavior to continue."

" _Your_ kid punched _mine_."

"Shut it, Max. _Your_ child struck _mine_ first," Optimus snapped. "Elita responded exactly how she was taught. She did not use violence until he left her no choice."

"Tch." That prompted a sneer from Max. "You've got anger management issues."

Optimus scowled at him through the corner of his eye.

"I have PTSD. Anger happens, sometimes at inappropriate times. Which reminds me...I owe you an apology for grabbing your hand earlier. That was uncalled for, and I'm sorry."

He didn't apologize for what he _said_. Mikaela was grateful for that.

"Heh, PTSD. That's serious business, but there's therapy for it now. I kinda-sorta understand what you're goin' through." Max looked up and wiped his sweaty brow. "I had a little incident with electricity in an abandoned movie theater. I get the willies every time there's a thunderstorm, heh, heh!"

As if that was comparable! Mikaela bit her bottom lip to avoid cussing him out.

"Storms don't scare you _that_ much, dear," Sherry cooed in his ear.

 _Geez, lady_ , Mikaela groaned to herself. She ate a handful of Ritz crackers someone left sitting in a bowl. Optimus manifested a cup of Yoplait strawberry flavored yogurt and a spoon from his cooler. He pointedly checked his watch before 'eating' his food.

Elita trotted over, her forehead damp with sweat and a cheerful smile on her face. She went right for a bottle of Snapple. Half got gulped before she took another breath.

"Phew, we're playing hard."

Optimus dabbed the sweat off her brow with a napkin. "Your overhand serve is much improved."

"Yeah." Elita finished the Snapple and blinked. "Uh oh."

Mikaela tensed. That was _the_ uh oh she hated hearing in public.

Elita shot towards the restrooms in a full on sprint, but froze halfway there. Mikaela and Optimus scrambled and got her the rest of the way.

Just last month the quantity of her glyph attacks suddenly dropped, but their intensity increased. Keeping her calm during them became more and more difficult.

Ratchet's old files and predictions were all Mikaela had to go on. Sometimes she hated not being able to seek the old medic's advice in the moment.

Elita shrieked once they were hidden from sight. "I don't know what that is! I don't know who that is! Argh! Stop yelling!"

"El, it's okay." Mikaela supported Elita from behind to prevent her from bolting away.

Optimus knelt to look their daughter in the eyes.

"What is the voice saying? Elita? Focus. Can you repeat what you're hearing?"

"It's so loud. I'm trying to see it, but it's so loud."

She grabbed her ears and doubled forward, her eyes tightly shut. Just like that, the paroxysm ended. For a moment she stared blankly at the wall. Then she rushed into a stall, coughed and threw up.

"El?" Mikaela hedged.

Elita flushed the toilet and emerged, wiping her mouth. She washed her hands in the sink while staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror above it. From Mikaela's viewpoint, the cracks appeared to cross the side of Optimus' head.

"Who is Unicron?" She scooped water into her mouth, swished and spat it into the sink. "Who is the Great Deceiver? Who are they? Dad?"

Optimus' eyebrows settled in a line. He rubbed his finger across his simulated stubble. "Unicron is Cybertron's ancient enemy, a being who has never been seen. I don't know anything about a Great Deceiver. Historical documents and stories mentioned the term without further explanation. Why would the Allspark have such information?"

Mikaela rubbed Elita's shoulders. "As a warning?"

"For what?" Optimus replied.

"Because stuff needs a warning label to keep dumbasses from hurting or killing themselves with it. Why do you think the hair dryer tag says not to use it while sleeping?"

That caused him to raise a brow.

Elita wiped her eyes. "Maybe _I'm_ the warning label."

"Heck of a warning label." Mikaela shook her head, sighing. "El, are you all right?"

"I'm fine now."

A shadow darkened the restroom door. Lupe and Talia rushed in, both panting from running hard.

Lupe coughed and blurted, "Elita, are you okay?"

"We saw you go into one of your seizures," said Talia.

Elita put on her bravest smile and slipped from Mikaela's arms. She splashed water on her face again, erasing the last evidence of her fright. "Yeah. It came on real fast. Hey, Lupe, did your mom make tamales?"

"Mmhmm! Let's eat some with your mom's chili, Talia!"

Talia laughed and threw her arms around both of them. "You two are cray-cray."

Elita peeked over her shoulder at Mikaela and Optimus. She was fine. Mikaela gave a little 'go ahead' wave. The girls disappeared through the doorway and their chatter faded into the distance.

"Great Deceiver," Optimus said to himself.

Another shadow dimmed the door. Sherry shot Optimus a dirty look for being in the women's restroom. She entered the stall Elita threw up in, put down enough toilet paper to smother a tank and talked loudly to cover up the sounds of peeing.

"I don't like that brown girl. She must be an anchor child taking up a school seat for more deserving children."

"Education is the right of any mind willing to receive it," said Optimus.

"Oh, really? Are we letting those stupid robots who keep falling out of the sky into our schools next? Those things are _monsters_. Especially the big red and blue one from Chicago! People think _it_ brought all that riffraff here."

If Optimus could mimic skin blanching, he would've gone whiter than a sheet. His jaw dropped instead. He was too gob smacked to speak.

The toilet flushed. Sherry walked out to wash her hands, but Elita used the last of the soap. She scrubbed her hands under running water instead, muttering about filthy aliens.

Mikaela grasped Optimus' hand and slapped her other hand on the mirror next to Sherry's head, effectively blocking her from leaving.

" _His_ name is Optimus Prime." She stared unblinking into Sherry's wide gray eyes. "He sacrificed more than you ever will in your perfect little life. You're still breathing because of him. He's somewhere out in space right now, saving your ungrateful rich ass. You should be thanking him, not talking trash about him."

"Those _things_ are monsters."

Mikaela took her hand off the mirror and jabbed an accusing finger at Sherry's reddening face, "No, that's you and your husband. You think being rich makes you better than everybody else. Guess what? It doesn't."

Sherry glanced at Optimus, fully expecting him to call Mikaela off. She scowled when he smirked and shook his head. His non-response had her bristling like a terrified feline. She refocused her attention on Mikaela.

"Your lack of respect is obvious. It explains your daughter's attitude towards my son, too."

"Elita knows that respect isn't something to demand from her, it's _earned_." Mikaela leaned forward, deadpan, "And I taught her to respect _herself_ enough to take no shit from brats like your son."

"How dare y--

"How dare I?" Mikaela laughed in her face. "You came in here spitting out your racist, xenophobic garbage and called me disrespectful because I don't agree. You and Max are filling Tyson's head with the same crap, but I'm the disrespectful one here because I think for myself? Really? Lady, look in the mirror and get over yourself!"

A wet noise sounded when Sherry gulped. There was no reclaiming her lost dignity after that. She fluffed her hair and indicated Optimus with her chin.

"You're just as unhinged as he is!"

Optimus' derisive laughter echoed in the bathroom. The sound made Sherry jump. Mikaela smirked right in her face and watched her flee like someone lit her pants on fire.

"And that is why I love you," Optimus rumbled in her ear.

She looked past his laughter and into his eyes. Everything Sherry said hurt him deeply. War and betrayal wore down his thick skin, and that trashy clod stabbed an exposed nerve.

"She's garbage," Mikaela said to him. "I hear that bullshit from school parents all the time. A lot of 'em don't like me because I'm not an anti-robot sheep like them. I swear, Optimus, nobody thinks for themselves anymore. Sherry always toddles along behind Max like a frigging poodle and parrots what he says. I can't stand people like her."

Optimus simulated a sigh. "Sometimes, group-think is a detriment. Many people double down on their incorrect beliefs when proven wrong by another perspective because they can't fathom being wrong. Perhaps that is why Sherry follows as opposed to expressing her own thoughts."

"I doubt she has anything original in her thick skull," muttered Mikaela. She shook her head, trying to wriggle the bad mood away. "C'mon, I saw a box of pizza out there and I want some."

They held hands all the way back to the picnic area.

.o

Afternoon gave way to evening. The picnic ended at five o'clock. Street fireworks were illegal, though that didn't stop a few people from setting off firecrackers and bottle rockets. Families who chose to enjoy the holiday lawfully headed away to the numerous professional fireworks events taking place around the area.

Mikaela loved the luxury cabin's location-- it allowed views of two different fireworks events to the south and east. No leaving home necessary.

She cooked a quick six o'clock dinner of mac 'n cheese with broccoli and leftover meatloaf on the side. Shadows outside stretched longer as the sun sank towards dusk.

Optimus shed the human hologram in favor of his bot form. He paced around, checking windows and doors. His encounter with Max unsettled him more than he let on. Worse, his symptoms sometimes amplified at night because it was dark outside when his traumatic incident took place.

"Not now!" He muttered, slapping himself on the brow, "That is a lie. Be quiet! Damn it! I said _be quiet!_ "

Neither Mikaela nor Elita acknowledged his muttering. He preferred it that way unless he sought their help.

Optimus entered the kitchen. _Doing_ things transferred his nervous energy towards accomplishing something. Mikaela left certain chores undone on purpose for that exact reason.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Mmhmm," he replied. "The intrusive thoughts are intense."

"What are they saying?"

Optimus shook his head. "They are too vile to repeat."

Mikaela set out another towel. He dabbed the silverware and dishes dry and stored them away in their proper places. An irascible frown pinched his face plates.

Mundane tasks weren't cutting it this time.

Elita headed for the living room. She glanced at the window, decided she had enough light to leave the lamps off and fiddled with the stereo remote. The opening piano chords of _A Thousand Years_ by Christina Perri, her current favorite song, filtered towards the kitchen.

"Dad, c'mon, let's dance!"

 _"Heart beats fast, colors and promises_. __  
How to be brave, how can I love when I'm afraid to fall? __  
But watching you stand alone, __  
all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow, _  
one step closer_... _"_

A smile softened Optimus' features. "I mustn't ignore such an important invitation."

He draped his dish towel over the oven handle to help it dry quicker.

 _"_... _I have died every day waiting for you_. __  
Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you __  
for a thousand years. _  
I'll love you for a thousand more_... _"_

Mikaela patted his chest plate and smooched his cheek. "Go dance with your girl. I'm gonna start the laundry."

"I wouldn't mind starting _you_ ," Optimus purred in her ear.

He had a talent for saying bawdy things in a weirdly tasteful way, and it was quite effective. Heat flooded her cheeks. She playfully flicked one of his ear finials and retreated upstairs.

No part of the cabin escaped Christina Perri's crisp vocals. Mikaela hummed along as she rolled sock pairs together and tossed them onto the multicolored heap in the white laundry basket. Dark items populated one side, light ones the other. Old sweat wafted unpleasantly off both piles. She ignored it in favor of the music and kick-shoved the plastic basket past her bedroom doorway.

Elita jumped onto the sofa to equalize her height with Optimus. Their dance consisted of embracing and swaying to the rhythm, yet they wrapped the evening light around them like a cloak.

 _"...Time stands still_ , __  
beauty in all she is.  
_I will be brave_ , __  
I will not let anything take away.  
_Standing in front of me_. __  
Every breath,  
_every hour has come to this_. _  
One step closer_... _"_

Mikaela couldn't resist whipping her phone out and recording the two people she loved most in the universe. She convinced herself that she hit _record_ because she felt like it and not because she feared never seeing Optimus and Elita have a moment like this again.

The song's chorus repeated. Elita hopped off the sofa, her bare feet plopping on the hardwood floor. Being only four feet and nine inches tall placed the top of her head two inches below the bottom of his chest.

Size differences be-damned, he took her right hand in his left and led her in a genuine ballroom waltz. He kept his moves simple. She knew enough to follow along beautifully. The rise and fall of their slow spin across the floor resembled a merry-go-round ride.

 _"_... _and all along I believed I would find you_.  
_Time has brought your heart to me_ ;  
_I have loved you for a thousand years_.  
_I'll love you for a thousand more.._. _"_

Elita waved when she noticed Mikaela. Optimus glanced up, winked and raised his arm to twirl Elita underneath. They completed another orbit around the sofa. Their momentum painted the flowing violins while their footsteps punctuated the percussive piano and guitar.

Sunlight shone orange against the trees outside. A scintillating white Kenworth t800 rolled past the picture windows and parked near the southeast corner of the cabin. Ultra Magnus was back from patrol. Neither Optimus nor Elita noticed him photo-bombing their moment.

 _A Thousand Years_ reached its gentle conclusion. Optimus ended the dance by stepping back, bowing like a gentleman and kissing Elita's hand. He tried so hard to smile for her, but his face plates twisted into a pained grimace instead.

Elita bounced up onto the sofa to hug him tight. Optimus buried his face against her shoulder. Mikaela quit recording and pocketed her phone. She didn't realize he was crying until she got downstairs with the laundry and heard the telltale springy noises coming off his voice emitter.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Elita asked.

Optimus shook his head without revealing his face, an almost comical reversal of how the situation usually played out. Her response was word-for-word identical to how he reacted to the same answer.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." She shifted her arms forward and hugged him more fully. "But you don't have to explain if you don't want to."

Elita caught Mikaela's eye and mouthed, "Anxiety attack."

Mikaela figured as much when she didn't see steam. Cybertronian panic attacks were physical experiences that came on suddenly. Anxiety attacks had a slower onset and stayed purely in the mental and emotional realms.

Mikaela hurried the laundry into the washing machine and started the first load. Optimus wasn't crying anymore by the time she reappeared. She approached him from behind and wrapped both arms around his waist anyway. Warm air escaped his vents, stirring her hair.

What if he had an episode after awakening from stasis after an unknown span of time? What if he panicked? How did he intend to cope without his family rushing to his side?

Frightening possibilities tangled Mikaela's mind. Optimus wasn't going to shatter at a mere glance. People had to crack before they fell apart.

But how much did today crack him?

Dealing with Optimus' stasis trauma always felt like watching him tread water in the middle of a stormy ocean. He used all his strength to keep himself afloat, and he couldn't swim because the waves kept tossing him back where he started.

"Are you okay, honey?"

"He's being sick," Elita whispered. She nuzzled her cheek against Optimus'. "The picnic was hard."

Mikaela knew why, but it became obvious he hadn't expressed that information to Elita. Probably for the best-- only bodily restraint would hold back her wrath if she found out.

"I'm all right," Optimus said.

"You sure, dad?"

"Yeah." He straightened, rolled his shoulders back and shook his head to clear it. "How about some _Doctor Who_? Pick an episode."

Elita's eyes gleamed. "Okay..."

A few minutes later, they sat together as a family and watched _The Husbands of River Song_. Elita chose it because the scene where the Doctor pretended to be stunned by the TARDIS always made Optimus laugh.

.o

Test fireworks burst in the sky at exactly eight-thirty.

Elita whooped excitedly. She bolted outdoors with all the finesse of a stampeding elephant. Clanking clicks marked Ultra Magnus shifting into robot mode. Somehow, he completed his transformation sequence in a handstand. He swung a leg down and crouched to let Elita scale him like a tree.

Ultra Magnus was a near-identical silver and white "twin" of Optimus' old robot mode with a few noticeable differences. The ear finials on each side of his head were flat instead of pointed, and each had a silver aerial telescoping antenna sprouting off the top. His rectangular nose lacked a groove down the middle and his mouth plates were three thin metal strips that somehow moved similarly to human lips. Engraved Cybertronian glyphs decorated most of his edges like filigree and esoteric dot patterns covered his fingers.

Elita vaulted onto Ultra Magnus' shoulder and hooked an arm around his smokestack. His pipes weren't ticklish, but his audios were another story. She goosed one. His left optic twitched and the corresponding antenna retracted partway into his ear finial. He turned his head to look her in the eyes and smiled mischievously.

"Going up?"

"Yup." Elita giggled, covering her mouth.

Ultra Magnus straightened and walked due east past the metal shed at the property's edge. He planted his feet a shoulder's width apart while folding his hands behind his back. Such a soldier, even while relaxed.

Mikaela and Optimus strolled upstairs, exited the external master bedroom door and stood together on the deck.

A cool zephyr stirred the otherwise still air. Fluffy tree crowns silhouetted themselves against the black sky. Venus, a brilliant white dot sinking towards the western horizon, led a celestial charge. Jupiter dominated the southern sky as a pale speck chasing Venus' glory. Saturn, dimmer and yellow, shyly crested the eastern treetops. Only Mars held a candle to Venus due to its close passage to Earth, but the ruddy war bringer hadn't risen yet.

Six glittering blue bursts signaled the fireworks show's beginning. Their booms echoed off the surrounding landscape.

Optimus wrapped an arm around Mikaela's waist. She pressed close against his side. He was warm, but not uncomfortably so. Static crackled when he searched his extensive playlist of music until he settled on a cover of _Stand By Me_ by Bootstraps. The haunting opening chord rose against the noisy fireworks.

 _"When the night has come_ , __  
and the land is dark,  
_and the moon is the only light we'll see_..."

Was this their last night together? Mikaela's throat clenched on the possibility. How could they come so far, go through so much, only for their lives to separate again? It wasn't fair.

"Optimus?"

He quirked a brow. She offered him her hand.

Dancing told their love story to anyone who watched them. She wanted the sky to feel it. Maybe a dance would convince the stars to give him back. A foolish, childish thought, yet she gripped it tightly like a lifeline.

Optimus grasped her hand and edged in front of her. He placed one hand on her hip, properly intertwined their free hands and deftly picked up the song's pulse. She laid her unoccupied hand on his shoulder, her hips swaying inside the motion he established.

 _"_... _No, I won't be afraid_. __  
No, I won't be afraid, __  
just as long as you stand, _  
stand by me_... _"_

Tears prickled underneath her eyelids. Letting Optimus see her cry made everything harder for him, so she forced it back. He pulled her closer as if sensing her inner struggle. Was he putting on his bravest face for her, too? Probably, but he always did a better job of appearing calm when he wasn't. She never would've known he felt as small and afraid as she did if her prom night didn't go sour. That night seemed a million light years distant now.

She embraced his neck until his music drowned out the world. He swayed her in slow circles like the first time. Every atom composing her being listened to his joints hiss-click, felt his porcelain smooth armor and smelled his familiar mixture of hot metal and motor oil. The warmth of his body matched the balmy night air.

 _"_... _So darlin', darlin'_ , __  
stand by me, _  
oh stand by me_... _"_

"I know this is difficult for you," murmured Optimus.

Her throat ached all over again, but her voice stayed steady. "I keep telling myself it's like the times you went off to work with NEST."

"But my presence on Earth was a secret then, and my return was more or less guaranteed. This departure is full of unknowns."

"Yeah."

Gold fireworks blossomed in the sky. Their boom-hiss sprayed white sparkles among the stars.

 _"_... _If the sky we look upon_ __  
should tumble and fall, _  
or the mountain should crumble into the sea_... _"_

"There is an upside to our situation." Servos whirred when he nuzzled his hard metal cheek against the soft skin of hers. He squeezed her gently for emphasis. "This."

This.

Them.

Now.

Mikaela's eyes stung anew, and it wasn't because of the gunpowder in the air. She blinked twice. The upwelling emotion overflowed onto her cheeks. They shared a few this-might-be-permanent goodbyes, and he came back. Shouldn't she be a pro at handling this?

"It's all right," Optimus said in her ear. He kept her close to him as she struggled against her grief. "I will find a way back to Earth. I promise you that."

"I'll wait all my life for you if I have to," Mikaela said through her tears.

Optimus lifted her chin and leaned his head forward until their foreheads touched. "And if I don't return in your lifetime...I will love you for the rest of mine."

 _"_... _I won't cry_. __  
I won't cry. __  
No, I won't shed a tear, __  
just as long as you stand, _  
stand by me_... _"_

His declaration flowed across her heart like soothing balm. She interlocked her fingers against the nape of his neck. His hands came to rest on her lower back. Their swaying continued. The music carried them in slow counterclockwise circles that excluded time's eternal march.

New fireworks lit up the East. Colorful bursts of light soared overhead.

Optimus tilted his head. Mikaela closed her eyes. The sky's brilliance was incomparable to the tingle of his mouth plates sliding gently across her parted lips in a deep Cybertronian kiss.

 _"_... _So darlin', darlin'_ , __  
stand by me, _  
oh stand by me_... _"_

"Mikaela," whispered Optimus.

A summer breeze blew a strand of hair against her lips. He brushed it aside. Firework flashes illuminated his features as she peered up at him, and the following booms became her ephemerality crashing into his ancientness.

Mayflies weren't supposed to fall in love with mountains. Did Fate seek to restore the universe's balance, or was it a bluff testing their loyalty?

Optimus massaged her lower back. Mikaela moved her thumbs in little circles behind his ear finials. His optics asked her to engulf him the way night engulfed day. The fierceness of his desire dared Fate to come between them.

 _"...Oh, my love_ , _  
stand by me_... _"_

Heat rushed through Mikaela's face-- and elsewhere-- like the horizon opening itself to the sun. Rationality whispered over her racing heartbeat. Should they do this? Did he have enough energon for it? What if it triggered flashbacks because of what happened earlier?

Determination tightened his mouth plates, answering her unasked questions. He would deal with the consequences when they arrived. That was all the permission she needed to join him in calling Fate's bluff.

They entered her bedroom without a sound. Dazzling fireworks silhouetted their bodies against doorway.

 _"_... _Stay, oh my love_. _  
Stand by me_... _"_

Mikaela unbuckled her belt. Optimus frowned playfully at her using it to pull him in for a kiss before dropping it on the floor by their feet. He unzipped her tunic and ran a desperate hand over her newly exposed shoulder blades. Goosebumps prickled her skin even though his metal fingertips were warm.

She took a few steps back to disrobe. Her tunic and leggings flopped atop her belt. Lacy red bikini-style panties and a matching strapless bra were the only garments still on her body.

His gaze caressed her skin, and her throat ached at realizing this could be the last time he looked upon her with undisguised hunger. She slammed a mental door on the thought. The future wasn't allowed here.

 _"...Oh, my love_ , __  
stand by me. _  
Stand by me_. _"_

Orange light flashed outside the window. White shimmers followed.

A soft click sounded. Optimus parted the armor guarding his Spark chamber. Pulsing blue-white brilliance teased through its closed doors like sunlight peeking between boards in a fence. Mikaela licked her lips. Watching points of reflected light glide over his red, blue and silver chrome sent jealousy pulsing through her nerve endings. God, he looked amazing.

He tilted his head and tantalized her with a cat-like slow blink. A _very_ intimate Cybertronian flirt-- something akin to blowing a lover a kiss.

Mikaela mirrored the gesture and playfully tip-toed backwards towards the bed. Optimus pursued her without breaking eye contact. The carnal intent in his optics parted the universe like the Red Sea.

No lightning bolt on Earth compared to the electricity of his fingers wrapping around her wrist. Her crystal earrings sparkled as he pulled her against his warm metal frame. His left hand slithered up her arm, down her back and snaked past the waistband of her panties to grasp her backside.

Giddiness knotted Mikaela's stomach. Her heartbeat thumped against Optimus' closed Spark chamber. His optics darkened while he bent forward, waltz-dipping her onto the bed. He ducked beyond her chin to mouth her through her lacy bra. Heat poured straight into her pelvis.

Then he waggled his brow ridges and held up something red like a magician who swiped someone's wallet.

Her panties.

"Damn," whispered Mikaela.

"Impressed?" He twirled them around his fingertip.

"Mmhmm."

Optimus squinted and parted his mouth plates in a mischievous grin. His voice rumbled her bones.

"Good."

A flick of his wrist sent the pilfered panties into the shadows.

Mikaela playfully thumbed his bottom lip plate and felt her way towards his chest. The dent in his Spark chamber doors stubbornly refused to fade.

"Yes," whispered Optimus, "Please."

She strummed the fine neural lines around his Spark chamber. They had the hardness of fiber optic cables and vibrated like taut rubber bands. A low, mechanical whine escaped his throat. Static tickled her wrist and raised the hairs on her arms.

"Are you okay?" Mikaela asked.

Optimus nodded once. He reached behind her and tapped playfully on her right shoulder blade, asking for more room. She lifted that shoulder off the bed. He unhooked her bra one-handed and flicked it straight up with gusto. It hit the ceiling fan pull chains and came right back down onto his head.

Mikaela didn't know what was funnier-- his wide-eyed expression or the lacy crimson bra cup flopping over his left optic like a bizarre eye patch. She took her hand off his Spark chamber and placed it on her mouth to stifle a rude snicker.

"Hm, that never happens in the movies," Optimus remarked.

Fireworks cast ominous purple light into the room.

"It's a good look for you." Her eyes watered from trying not to laugh, "Like evil Spock's kinky goatee in _Mirror, Mirror_."

He tossed the bra aside and arched a brow in mock offense. "Tch! As _if!_ "

It sounded exactly like Elita's snottiest retort to, well, a lot of things. Mikaela couldn't control herself any longer. She snorted, exhaled and snorted _again_ when she gasped for breath.

Optimus eyed her. "Mikaela, did you fart?"

A giggle slipped around the hand covering her mouth. "Maybe."

That did it. He pressed a hand over his optics and laughed so hard his voice dissolved to a metallic whine. The future wanted to pour sadness on their moment, and they deflected it through laughter. They hugged each other until their mirth ran its course.

"Mm..." Optimus rumbled suggestively in her ear, "Who tops tonight?"

"Let me think." Mikaela pursed her lips. She pretended to consider it while tracing the silver circle of armor surrounding his Spark chamber. Touching it, but not _quite_ granting full contact. Tingly static shocks tickled her fingertips.

Optimus planted his elbow on the mattress, rested his cheek against his fist and toyed with one of her earrings. His cool metal fingertips traced her collarbone before suddenly diving towards her nether regions. He caressed everywhere but where she wanted it the most.

Thinking straight-- or pretending to-- became impossible!

"Gah!" She squeaked, "Okay, fine. You top!"

He winked. "As you wish."

Green light lit the window and fierce crackling filled the room. Gunpowder wafted on the wind like anticipation.

Getting in position was a choreographed dance perfected through experience. Optimus scooted backwards off the bed while Mikaela threw a pillow against the headboard and reclined in the center of the mattress. The blue nylon comforter sent goosebumps down her spine.

He stood by the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips. His optics had a laser-like bead on every move she made. Knowing she captured his attention so completely left her feeling both vulnerable and powerful. She bent her knees, flopped her legs apart to show him the goods and ran her tongue across her front teeth.

Optimus shifted his weight and rolled his head side to side like a boxer loosening up before a match. White fireworks illuminated his armor nicely in the dimness. Mikaela waggled her eyebrows and beckoned him by curling her index finger towards herself.

Seeing his knees touch the comforter upped her heart rate. His hands dented the mattress, stealing her breath. The bed shifted under his weight and his hungry optics stayed focused on her eyes. Servos whirred and nylon rustled. He crawled forward. Heat from his armor teased her naked skin. Every nerve ending in her body jumped to attention.

Bigger fireworks tore up the sky. Passionate red flickers danced across the ceiling.

Mikaela draped her legs over Optimus' hips. She realized she didn't flip her ponytail off the back of her neck before settling down. Optimus shot her a knowing smile and did it for her. His fingertips returned to scratch the resulting itch. Such a small, caring gesture, yet it sent unspeakable need straight through her heart.

He leaned over, using his alluring baritone voice to its fullest advantage, "Wifey, are you prepared for liftoff?"

Gold flashes teased the window. Resounding booms held the future at bay.

"Yeah." Mikaela hit his ignition switch by massaging his ear finials. "Fire me up, boss bot."

Desire heated Optimus' armor. Crackling fireworks almost drowned out a grinding, mechanical click. He rose onto his knees to present his Spark to her. It spun like a tiny star that generated no heat, and each rotation pulsed life through his body with a ringing hum.

Mikaela shifted her gaze to his optics. They were deep blue rings surrounding darkness, the plea of a turned-on bot desperate to share his soul. A lump welled in her throat. She cupped his face between her palms and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs.

"I love you."

Her words brightened his Spark for a single pulse. It reached his optics a second later. He tilted his head.

"I love you, too."

They exchanged a kiss and a look of utter devotion. Optimus bent closer, his forearms swishing on the bedspread as he rested them alongside Mikaela's shoulders. She embraced him, her actions spurred by a hunger to hold him close. He lowered himself all the way and laid his Spark gently over her heartbeat.

Increasingly colorful flashes sketched their unhurried movements. Hard metal lips brushed a soft mouth. Hands clutched at shiny smoke stacks. Silver fingers caressed delicate shoulders. Skin flushed red. Chrome grew warmer.

Mikaela relished the blossoming heat in the pit of her stomach. She squeezed Optimus' hips between her thighs. He shuddered and moaned wantonly against her cheek.

Eternity's edge loomed around them. She felt her love for him rise inside her-- saw his love for her burning in his optics-- and their oneness completed like a circuit.

Heat rushed to Mikaela's face. An itchy ache gathered in her pelvis and exploded throughout her body. Spasms contracted her abdominal muscles. Her jaw dropped and her toes curled. She mewled, burying her face in Optimus' shoulder. The orgasm ran over her like a delightful earthquake, and she enjoyed the seismic ride.

Optimus grabbed the wooden headboard, which loosened Mikaela's hold on his neck. Hot air surged through his intake vents. Static crackled along his sharpest edges. Delicious agony contorted his expression. He threw his head back and let it droop forward again, his carnal growls becoming a series of deep, resonating groans.

Forever swept them away while the fireworks finale roared outside. They soared until the future pulled them back into time and obscured itself again behind curling gunpowder smoke.

Mikaela sighed as her body's throbbing quieted to tingling. She wiped sweat off her brow and basked in the afterglow.

"Mmmh." Optimus emitted his customary post-lovemaking purr. He sank forward and buried his face in the pillow. Hot oil smells permeated the room. His limp fingers skittered down the scratched headboard. Fabric swished against his armor. He slipped his hands under the pillow behind Mikaela's head.

"Mmmh?" She grinned, teasing him.

No response. Air whooshed through his vents. His Spark chamber slammed shut with a loud twang.

Her joking demeanor dissolved. Sometimes Optimus handled sex like he used to. And sometimes, when he got really symptomatic like now, he struggled afterward.

Facing the person responsible for his stasis trauma affected him more than he thought. Or did he expect a strong reaction and go forward anyway?

Selflessness, his greatest strength and biggest weakness.

Mikaela moved like she didn't want to rouse a light sleeper. She unhooked her legs from his hips, stretched them out between his knees and carefully pulled her arms down to her sides. He didn't notice her changing position.

"Optimus, listen. We're in bed. It's just us here. You're having a flashback. Try to move. Can you move for me?"

Servos whirred when Optimus turned his head to focus on her. He blinked twice and his flickering optics regained their steady blue luminance.

Her eyes softened. "Hey, handsome. Are you with me again?"

"Yeah. I'm..." Optimus pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. A mechanical sigh escaped him. "Frag, I just-- I'm sorry."

"For what? Getting me off?" Mikaela disrupted his mental self-flagellation with humor.

It worked. He chuckled and rumbled in her ear. "Getting you off was both intentional and enjoyable."

Warmth heated her face. He nuzzled his cheek against hers, a signal that he was okay with being touched again. She hugged him close and petted the back of his head to soothe away the flashback's chill.

"Are you okay now?"

"Sort of."

Mikaela reached under the pillow for one of Optimus' hands. They interlocked their fingers. He smiled drowsily at her as if she embodied everything he ever wanted or needed. A look that still took her breath away after all these years.

"Wasn't that pretty?" Elita shouted up at them. Her voice unintentionally spoiled the illusion of timelessness.

"Yup!" Mikaela called back. It wasn't a lie if she didn't state exactly what she found so _pretty_ right then.

"I suppose we have to move," said Optimus.

He wiped the evidence of their lovemaking off his armor using a tissue from the nightstand. Mikaela sat next to him and cleaned herself up, too. They tossed their wadded tissues in the small green bin under the nightstand.

Mikaela leaned in to kiss Optimus' cheek.

The downstairs screen door banged. They jumped apart like a pair of teenagers doing something they shouldn't. Optimus rolled partway onto his back to look nonchalant. Mikaela skipped the bra and panties in favor of clothing herself quickly. She tried in vain to finger-comb her messy ponytail. There was no saving it, so she let her hair down and shook it out. Not exactly perfect, but less obvious than messy sex hair. She looked over at Optimus and almost burst out laughing at his pose.

"Should I draw you like those French girls?"

He blinked, perfected the position by draping a hand above his head and waggled his brow ridges. "The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll."

Footsteps creaked up the stairs.

Mikaela giggled, tossing her bra and panties at Optimus. Both landed squarely on his face.

"Hide those, quick!"

He stuffed both under his left chest plate.

Elita appeared in the doorway less than a second later. "Mom? Can I open the big bag of Cheetos?"

Mikaela spun to face her, smirking. "Did you finish the old bag?"

"Yeah."

"Then go for it."

"Cool." Elita's eyes shifted from Mikaela to Optimus. Her brow furrowed. She crossed her arms, leaned her weight on one leg and rolled her eyes. "Dad, there's a bra coming out of your chest."

"I'm attempting to start a trend," he replied.

"Dad! Oh. My. God. No." She face-palmed. "Just... _no_."

Mikaela knew she would laugh her ass off if she turned around, so she didn't. "Go open the Cheetos. We'll be out in a minute."

"Okay, rabbits." Elita wrinkled her nose. She spun on her heels and padded downstairs.

Mikaela sprinted towards the bed and took a flying leap. Optimus caught her when she landed practically on top of him. Elita was right. Her lacy red bra cup hung halfway out of his chest plate.

"You suck at hiding evidence," Mikaela teased.

"I had little time to prepare," Optimus replied snootily.

Stalling delayed the inevitable, so they rose together and tidied up the bedroom. Optimus straightened the disheveled bed. Mikaela deposited her undergarments in the empty clothes hamper in the closet.

He tapped her shoulder, and when she turned he delivered one of his endearingly clumsy human-style kisses. She leaned into it. They smooched three times. One for now, one for yesterday and one for tomorrow.

Shadows edged into his optics. His face lost almost all its expression. Watching his happiness drain away erased any guilt she felt about bleaching Max's precious car. That supercilious bastard ruined Optimus' life and _joked_ about it, and she would never forgive him for it.

Optimus' voice brought her back to the present. "Are you ready?"

Mikaela nodded solemnly. That wasn't a conversation she looked forward to witnessing. Optimus held her hand and walked downstairs with her rather than beaming his hologram. He stood beside the counter separating the kitchen from the living room.

"On the feet, kiddo!"

Elita put the freshly-opened Cheetos bag back on the counter. She jogged barefoot across the brown linoleum and stood on the "toe ends" of Optimus' feet. Staying balanced required her to hug his waist.

"What's up, dad?"

Mikaela lingered by the wall. Optimus blinked as if gathering himself. Making Elita unhappy crushed him. He tried to avoid it whenever possible, yet there was no dodging this. His arms moved inward, shielding her from the words about to leave his mouth.

"Elita, I'm going into stasis lock soon."

Her entire body froze for a fraction of a second. "Is it gonna make your stasis trauma worse?"

"No, sweet-Spark." Optimus spoke gently, his deep voice filling the room with its soothing rumble. "Everything shuts off, even reflexes. I won't dream or feel the passage of time at all, and I'll awaken again when the Creators respond to my message or appear to collect me."

"You promised not to leave again," Elita said bitterly.

Optimus' face plates twisted like someone being gutted alive.

"I know. I'm...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Elita. I didn't anticipate the search taking this long."

"Don't say sorry!" Elita wriggled off Optimus' feet and grabbed onto his wrist plating. "Sorry is a stupid word people say when they mess up. It's not gonna count until you back it up, so don't go into stasis lock!"

Then she burst into tears and hid her face against his stomach. Her teardrops ran down the metal like dew. He clutched her hands, trying desperately to protect her while she cried.

"Elita--"

"I'm scared," Elita said.

"Me, too." He managed to free his left hand and stroked the top of her head. "I guess that means we both have to be brave."

"You stole that from _Doctor Who_."

"Mmhmm," Optimus twirled the messy French braid he wove into her hair that morning. "I'm not asking you for a promise, I'm giving you an order. As a Prime, I order you to be brave, Elita. Be as brave as you know how to be."

"I'm a Prime, too." She sniffled and sobbed, "So as a Prime, I order you to stay!"

Optimus wrapped his other arm completely around her in a firm, yet gentle hug. "I wish I could follow that order. Unfortunately, I don't have a choice. We've known this situation was a possibility for a long time."

"It's stupid," she croaked, "It's stupid and unfair."

"I know, sweet-Spark."

The whole exchange nearly tore Mikaela's bones out of her skin. Optimus might get killed far out in space, alone, cold and forgotten, and they would never know.

"How long do you have?" asked Elita.

"No later than oh-one-hundred."

At that, Elita reached for his shoulders. Optimus scooped her up like a feather. She hooked her legs around his waist and clutched him in a hug that would suffocate someone with lungs.

Optimus cupped the back of Elita's head in his palm and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He comforted her that way when she was a baby. It happened by instinct, like the universe created him to be her dad.

"This is difficult," Optimus murmured. "The Doctor said it best on TV-- I have a duty of care. As your dad, it's my _duty_ to make the universe a safe place for you. I will fight anyone who stands in my way of achieving that goal."

Elita pressed her face against his shoulder. "What if I die of old age while you're gone? What're you gonna do then?"

Few things evoked such a strong visible reaction from Optimus, but the mere mention of Elita's eventual death did it every time. His face plates twisted and his mouth drew up in a grimace. The expression passed quickly.

"What do you _want_ me to do if that happens?"

Elita rubbed her eyes. "Do you still have the photo album in your glove box?"

He nodded once.

"Look at it every day so you don't forget what mom and I looked like. Then show it to aliens in a trillion years so they know you're not making crap up when you talk about us."

Mikaela ducked her head. Optimus' optics tilted in a wan smile. That was such a typical Elita response.

"If that is what you want, I will do it."

She held up a hand. "Pinkie promise?"

He freed a hand and hooked his pinkie around hers. "Pinkie promise."

They gave each other a light kiss on the mouth. Elita's eyes glistened with hope.

Mikaela felt like an intruder on their moment. She pushed off from the wall and quietly slipped upstairs into her bedroom. The hope she saw in her daughter's eyes blossomed into a silent resolution as she entered the bathroom and removed her makeup.

Optimus would come back during her lifetime. Maybe sooner, maybe later. Looking forward to that transformed her sorrow into something bearable. She set her discarded earrings in their box and turned off the light.

Wind wafted through the open deck door. Mikaela closed and locked it before she laid on her stomach across the bed.

She meant to plan for the future, but she fell asleep instead and dreamed of a black hole that erased it.

.o

 _Present_...

Pea-sized hail stampeded the roof. Thunder bounded west to east. Raindrops mixed among the hailstones. Wailing wind blasted everything at the ground in a pale mist. The downburst threw a tantrum outside the hopper window until its parent cloud dragged it away. Petrichor trailed in its wake.

Elita slid the steel toolbox off the cedar chest. The heavy lid groaned on its hinges when she shoved it open. An orange gift box lay nestled between two dusty cowboy hats. Pen scribbles surrounded the lid.

"Mom, turn on the light."

Mikaela hopped up the basement stairs and flipped the switch. Stabbing whiteness broke the gloom. Elita sat on the rumpled sleeping bag and turned the box around in her hands several times. Optimus always drew dots instead of scribbling to test pens.

Elita yanked the lid off the box and flipped it over. All it said was _give this lid to Ultra Magnus_. She moved aside the ratty dust rag in the box, revealing the Matrix of Leadership.

Mikaela covered her mouth. "Oh."

Seeing something so perantique cradled in Elita's young hands pulled the distant past into the immediate future. The Matrix levitated itself six inches above her palms. White electrical energy shot off its center and engulfed her skin.

"El!" Mikaela gasped.

"I'm fine, mom. Whoa..." Elita's eyes widened. "It said 'hi' to me."

Mikaela jumped when the Matrix emitted a high-pitched clank. The central section spun vertical and compacted inward like the AllSpark Cube. Its pointy outermost ends stretched into two silver rope chains. They writhed, found each other and joined together as a solid piece.

The clicking ceased. Gravity took over.

Elita caught the newly miniaturized Matrix, which now fit perfectly on her palm. She donned the pendant and pulled her braid out from underneath. The charm dangled against the bottom of her chest. She tucked it under her shirt, and there it would stay.

"I guess he wants me to hang onto it for him in case he..."

Mikaela avoided voicing the same possibility. "He'll want it back when he's done with the Creators."

Nodding, Elita rubbed her eyes and silently trudged up the steep cement stairs. Mikaela grabbed the box lid and followed, shutting the light off on the way.

Elita reached for her book about Arthurian history and flipped it open. She sat on the sofa, one hand rubbing her stomach.

"I see you found the box."

The smooth tenor voice startled years off Mikaela's life. She spun towards the sound.

"Mags! Geez!"

"Whoops," Ultra Magnus rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't like using his human-sized bot hologram as often as Optimus did. "Optimus asked me to look in on you when his signal went dark. He left a message for me to decode."

"Hey, Mags." Elita slapped her book closed.

"Elita," He tipped his head politely to her.

Mikaela covered a yawn and passed Ultra Magnus the orange box lid. He laid it horizontally on his palms while his optics scanned left to right, then right to left.

"Hm...his Rustian grammar is still off." His brow ridges relaxed in a neutral line. "Simply put, Optimus states the Matrix of Leadership may be the most powerful artifact in the universe. It is too dangerous to be lost in space with him, so he asks you, Elita, to be the Matrix Bearer in his stead. He hopes it offers you the guidance it has offered him."

"I swear it said hello to me." Elita unzipped her hoodie and peered at the necklace. She curled her lip and yanked the zipper back to where she had it. "What's Rustian?"

Ultra Magnus approached the sofa where Elita sat.

"Rustians are a race of Cybertronians indigenous to the Sea of Rust, which is similar to Earth's deserts and plains. Their matte, rusty appearance was distinct because the protomatter they came from was coated in rust. What makes Rustians unique is they had zero contact with the rest of Cybertron for six million years, so they developed in total isolation. You can safely say they are Cybertron's 'Native American' population."

Fascinated, Mikaela perched on the arm of the sofa with her arms crossed. "So what happened to them? Did they get taken over by outsiders?"

"Almost. It's a long story."

And Mikaela knew it wasn't a nice one when shadows fell across Ultra Magnus' optics. "The Rustians' first contact with outsiders was the Primes, whom they began to revere as benevolent gods able to appear and disappear at will. They believed the Primes to be so beautiful that they created songs and dances specifically to praise them.

"And then, like a storm, one of those Primes rained destruction on the Rustians like none had ever seen--"

"The Fallen," Elita spat the word as a curse.

Ultra Magnus nodded solemnly. "The Fallen almost wiped out the first Rustian generation to ensure no other Primes arose. The Rustians had never seen death before until the Fallen, and they didn't understand why he brought death into their presence. The Fallen frightened the remaining Rustians so completely that they created art and music to appease the god they thought they angered.

"Peace settled over the Sea of Rust again, just in time for another generation of Rustians to arise. That generation faced the Great War, and their status as an isolated people ended the day Megatron plowed through a village and told his troops to take the Rustians' resources.

"Many Rustian clans came together to face the Decepticons, but they were painfully outnumbered because they still hadn't recovered from the Fallen's attempted genocide. An Autobot convoy arrived and their commander found himself in a standoff against the Decepticons with the Rustians caught in the middle. The Autobots were outnumbered as much as the Rustians, but their combined numbers evened the score, so to speak, so they teamed up against the Decepticons.

"History describes the convoy leader as standing back to back with a Rustian warrior against a backdrop of fire. Neither bot understood what the other said at that point due to the language barrier, but they recognized each other as allies, and together they drove the Decepticons off the Sea of Rust.

"After the battle, the Autobot and the Rustian who fought back to back figured out how to communicate with each other. It took a long time, but they were both persistent in breaking the language barrier. The Autobot insisted that he had no desire to change the Rustian's way of life or erase their culture, yet he knew the Decepticons had no qualms about doing so. He didn't want that to happen, no matter the cost.

"He asked the Rustian warrior to help him defeat the Decepticons and restore peace to Cybertron. The Rustian warrior saw a familiar greatness in the Autobot and believed his presence was an apology from the gods, so he said yes without hesitating. From then on, the Rustian population was regarded as members of the Autobot army."

"Wow," whispered Mikaela.

Elita was equally spellbound. She leaned forward, wide-eyed and nosy as ever. "Did you hear about that in history class?"

Ultra Magnus' optics gleamed mischievously. "Nah. I was the warrior, and Optimus was the Autobot."

Her jaw dropped and her eyes almost popped clean out of her skull. Realization lit her face. She grinned, slapping the sofa backing. " _That's_ why you sound weird when you speak Cybertronian! I thought it was a regional accent. Like...I dunno...a southern drawl."

"Nope, that distinction belongs to Optimus. Megatron, too, though he disguises it. Every bot raised in Simfur has a drawl that never goes completely away." Ultra Magnus tossed the box lid in the air and caught it on his fingertip.

"Anyway, back to what I was saying, the Rustians invited Optimus to immerse himself in our way of life. He lived with us, lived _like_ us, for a very long time. In turn, he took me to Iacon and I immersed myself in his way of life. I lived with him and lived like him for a long while. It was very educational for both of us.

"Rustians were no less developed than the Autobots when the two populations met. We had technology the Autobots did not, and the Autobots had tools we did not. Trade routes were established and a cultural exchange began. Neither race forced the other to assimilate, it was all voluntary.

"Optimus asked me to share the Rustian language with his Autobots because he saw its obscurity as an advantage. Rustian is extremely complex in both spoken and written form, and a non-native speaker has no hope of learning it by downloading it off a dead bot's processor. It sounds like gibberish to outsiders and our text looks like a bunch of dots. It's perfect for pass-phrases and message encryption, so I was happy to oblige. In return, Optimus taught the Rustians how to speak and read the Autobot and Decepticon languages.

"Look back in history at Autobot listening posts and you'll find a Rustian was stationed there. We spied on Decepticon chatter and we repeated their messages to the Autobots in Rustian on the same channels."

Grinning, Mikaela scratched the back of her head. "Damn, Mags! You're a robot Navajo code-talker!"

Ultra Magnus proudly lifted his chin. "Pretty much."

Elita bounced slightly on her sofa cushion. "Ooh! Say something in Rustian? Please?"

"Sure." Ultra Magnus straightened with his hands clasped behind his back. " _Bah grol akraagh dim atwi_. Roughly translated, I said, 'I like your smile.'"

Elita covered her mouth, giggling. "Your name sounds Cybertronian. Autobot, to be exact."

He tapped the box lid against her head. "My name is a fortunate pronunciation combined with Rustian naming conventions. _Ult Ra Mag Nus_. Say it the way you normally would, and it comes out as Ultra Magnus. It means 'warrior elemental' and is a reference to an old story describing a Rustian who faces and overcomes the four elements-- ground, fluid, flame and air."

Mikaela waved a hand and jumped into the conversation. "Whoa, man! This is wild. You hung around us for what? Twelve years? And you never told us this?"

"Well, it never came up until I mentioned it today." Ultra Magnus shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal. "Scanning the Kenworth next to K-mart erased my rusty outward appearance, but I still have my Rustian accent and glyphs."

He showed them the dots engraved on his hands.

"Only Rustians have dot glyphs. Mine say _freedom, justice, peace_."

Elita peered at his fingers. She rested her hands on top of his and gazed longingly into his optics.

"Are you the only Rustian?"

His mouth plates quirked in a half smile. He shook his head. "No. Definitely not."

"Good. This was getting heavy. I--" Elita froze. "Oh, crap. Be right back. Tummy trouble. Gah! Sorry!"

She scrambled into the bathroom next to the basement. Two seconds later, she cracked the door and shouted, "Mom!"

Alarmed, Mikaela and Ultra Magnus rushed towards the bathroom.

Ultra Magnus got there first. He practically leapt backwards and turned away. Mikaela almost crashed into his back. It might've been funny if Elita's shouts weren't so emergent.

Mikaela poked her head into the bathroom. "What's up?"

Elita shoved her blue board shorts past her knees. A red blotch stained the entire gusset of her yellow underwear.

"My stomach hurts. I thought I had the runs." She hunched forward, rubbing her forehead.

Mikaela leaned on the doorframe. "Is it a dull, achy feeling that seems to grow and shrink?"

"Yeah."

"Congrats, it's cramps. How bad does it hurt?"

"Uh...about as much as having to poop, I guess." Elita cringed, "You didn't tell me I'll feel it ooze out. This is gross."

"You'll get used to it." Mikaela winced sympathetically.

Dissonant emotions rang across her mind. She delighted at seeing her daughter cross this developmental milestone. On the other hand, it closed and sealed the door on a physical part of her childhood. Knowing Optimus missed this moment by barely an hour rubbed salt into an already raw wound.

"The pads and tampons are in the cupboard under the sink. The Tylenol and Ibuprofen are in the medicine cabinet." She scooped up Elita's discarded underwear. "I'll bring you something clean to put on."

"Pick dark colors."

"Sure."

"Elita?" Ultra Magnus hedged, wringing his hands, "I-I thought I saw blood. Are you menstruating?"

"Shush, Mags!" Elita bellowed, causing him to raise his brow ridges.

Mikaela hid the bloodstained underpants inside the shorts and backed out of the bathroom. Elita slammed the door shut.

"Uh...sorry?" He tapped on the door. "I intended no offense."

"Go away!"

Baffled, he focused on Mikaela. She half-smiled, amused by his confusion.

"Mags, it's her first one. It's almost always embarrassing."

The poor bot was so out of his league! He glanced between the bathroom door and Mikaela's face. "Right. Uh... do you, uh, need my assistance in handling this?"

"Nah."

Mikaela edged into the kitchen. She dropped Elita's panties in a plastic basin by the sink, filled it with enough cold water to cover the bottom and added peroxide. Then she jogged upstairs to retrieve dark purple panties from Elita's underwear drawer and reached in the drawer underneath for her black pajama shorts.

"Thanks," Elita said when Mikaela brought her the clothes. Plastic packaging rattled behind the closed door.

Soaking Elita's underwear in peroxide and cold water lifted most of the bloodstain out. Mikaela tossed the soiled garment in the washing machine for a quick cold wash to finish the job.

The toilet flushed and the bathroom door swung open. Elita emerged, looking down at herself in dismay.

"I thought periods came _after_ your boobs grew in."

"Um...er...oh, my." Ultra Magnus stared upward at the ceiling and looked ready to melt between the floorboards.

Mikaela bit back a rude snicker. "Don't get wrapped up in your body, El. You're more than boobs and hips."

"Easy to say when you're married." Elita rounded on Ultra Magnus. "And _you_ guys have it easier. You just worry about who has the nicest optics."

"Hm...not entirely true." Ultra Magnus cocked his head. "Cybertronians have preferences, same as humans."

She balked. "You guys have types?"

"Mmhmm. Color schemes, specific body frames, personality traits and foreign accents, to name a few. I'm fond of someone who--"

"Hold on a sec!" Mikaela leaned across the kitchen counter. "You're Spark-bonded, and you didn't tell us for twelve years?"

Ultra Magnus gesticulated like an umpire calling a time-out. "No. No! Incorrect! _Argh_..." He face-palmed and peeked between his fingers. "We aren't bonded _yet_."

Elita clenched her fists as if somebody slapped her. Tears welled in her eyes. She sighed, flopped to sit on the sofa and wiped both hands down her face. "That's nice."

"It is." He said, straightening. "But I'm not someone who chit-chats about myself or my life unless it comes up in conversation."

"Really?" Mikaela slid off the counter and teasingly nudged his shoulder. She wasn't letting go of this delectable tidbit without making him squirm a little more. "Is it somebody I know?"

"Ah, no." Ultra Magnus side-eyed Elita before focusing on Mikaela. "He landed somewhere on Earth on Elita's fifth birthday. I told him to stay away from here for your safety. We talk occasionally over our comm-links, but we have not seen each other in person for a very long time."

Ooh, this was getting good. Mikaela scooted closer, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "What's his name? What is he like?"

A brilliant sunrise penetrated the gloomy clouds. Ultra Magnus' expression warmed with it.

"I won't say his name to someone else until I see his face again. It's a Rustian superstition. What I _will_ tell you is he has an embarrassing inability to keep his hands to himself when we're together-- and that is not a complaint. His personality is a polar opposite to mine. I love him and everything about him."

He shifted his weight leftward, playfully nudging Mikaela with his elbow. "And that is _all_ you get from me about the matter."

Flustering prim and proper people never ceased to be amusing. Mikaela decided to ease off Ultra Magnus before the poor guy got ruffled to death.

Elita shoved her way between them.

"I feel like crap." Her voice cracked, "I'm going to lay down."

She swallowed her tears behind a stoic face and trudged upstairs.

"Elita," Ultra Magnus called after her, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" She slammed her door.

"I think I offended her." He blinked at the bang. "Is that normal menstrual behavior?"

Mikaela closed Elita's abandoned book and covered a yawn. "Pretty much. Imagine waking up one day with all your emotions on hair triggers and the gun shoots as soon as you touch it."

"That sounds incredibly difficult."

"It is." She yawned again. "But it passes."

Clouds obscured the sun again. Crows cawed somewhere in the distance.

"Don't feel obligated to stay awake for me, Mikaela." Ultra Magnus offered her a kind smile. "I apologize if I was abrupt about my love life. Fate has kept us apart for a very long time, and I miss him."

"It's fine, I know how you feel," Mikaela welcomed the excuse to go back to bed. "I'm gonna try to get some sleep, too. G'night, Mags."

She ascended the stairs and closed the bedroom door behind her.

.o

Morning traffic shone like stars against the tarry black asphalt. Early morning storm clouds evaporated to reveal bright blue skies above the buildings. Residential sprinklers sizzled and thirsty grass glimmered.

Music by Sophie B. Hawkins rang softly from the Silverado's speakers as Mikaela waited at a stoplight.

 _"_... _Oh, darling_ , __  
as I lay me down to sleep, __  
this I pray, __  
that you will hold me dear. __  
Though I'm far away, __  
I'll whisper your name into the sky, _  
and I will wake up happy_... _"_

Cars across the intersection turned left. The light changed for her next. She tapped on the steering wheel, singing along while she watched the broad Volunteers of America building shrink in her rear view mirror.

Four magnolia trees lined the street near a long gray building. Mikaela activated her blinker and slowed at the driveway just beyond the fourth tree. One more twist of the wheel guided the Silverado across the parking lot of Joe's Garage. Gravel crackled under the vehicle's tires when she eased into her favorite spot outside the back service entrance.

 _"_... _It's not too near for me_ , __  
like a flower I need the rain. __  
Though it's not clear to me, __  
every season has it's change __  
and I will see you _  
when the sun comes out again_... _"_

She turned the key, silencing the radio and the truck's rumbling engine.

Her boss, Joe, leaned on the wall to finish off his coffee. Tall, strong and dark-skinned, he was a man of Kenyan descent. He kept his graying hair buzzed short. Stubble dusted his chin like the night sky. His long, practiced hands dwarfed the white Styrofoam cup he held between them.

"Good morning, Mikaela!" Joe's rich bass voice expressed pure warmth.

"Morning!" Mikaela smiled.

He grinned back, his white teeth and brown eyes catching the sun. "There's a real piece of work waiting for you to open shop."

Sweat broke out on the back of Mikaela's neck. Damn sticky July humidity. She took a plain hair band from her pocket and hastily tied her hair back in a sloppy high ponytail. "Oh, yeah? What'cha got for me?"

Joe arched a brow. "This one ain't worth spoiling. Go have a look-see for yourself."

"Oh, boy."

Mikaela crossed a short hallway of dingy-yet-clean offices to emerge inside the greasy smelling main garage. Two enormous industrial fans roared in the back corners to blow air towards the half-open garage doors. Mercifully, the doors faced north and didn't get blasted by the sun all day long.

Joe normally kept the two huge garage doors closed until they officially opened for business, but the humid weather turned the workspace into a stuffy, miserable oven unless he let last night's hot air out before sunrise. He wired a cheap LED sign to the outer strip of wall between the doors. _Closed_ glowed in red letters and all somebody had to do was turn it off and open the garage doors to indicate readiness for customers.

Mikaela donned her tool belt. Its weight settled perfectly on her hips. Joe didn't care what she wore as long as it didn't involve exposed toes or anything dangly enough to tangle in moving engine parts. Today, due to the muggy heat, she wore a plain white scoop-neck tank top, cutoff jean shorts and black Doc Martens.

She switched off the LED sign outside and tapped the gray square button underneath. Both metal doors rattle-squeak-buzzed as they revealed the busy street outside. The other side of the intersection housed a Supercuts hair salon, a MacDonald's, a Wells Fargo bank, a Sit 'n Sleep mattress store, and a CVS pharmacy. Traffic noises were at their usual growing roar for eight o'clock in the morning. Not quite rush hour yet.

And the only car in the customer parking lot was a familiar plum Rolls Royce. Such a shiny car didn't belong among the mundane city surroundings.

"Finally!" Max emerged from behind the strip of wall between the two garage doors.

Unlike yesterday, he wore an impeccable gray business suit with a satin silver tie and black shoes polished to a near mirror finish. He barged into Mikaela's personal space, took off his silver aviator sunglasses and tucked them in the inner breast pocket of his coat. His coffee breath was almost as obnoxious as his voice.

"My engine's cutting out and smells funny."

No preamble of hello or anything. Not that Mikaela minded-- the less time she spent talking to the sleaze-ball, the better.

She placed her hands on her hips, fixed her eyes on Max's and rolled her shoulders slightly back. Her dad taught her how to show a man he didn't intimidate her. It came in handy a lot.

"How about starting it? Does it start?"

He sighed, rubbing his chin. Stubble scraped under his fingernails. "Look, no offense, but I want the best this place has."

She quirked her lips in a half-smile, "Well, you're looking at it."

"Oh." His bushy eyebrows furrowed. "You'll ruin those nice hands of yours doing work like this."

 _You ruined my husband's life while trying to kill him, you sexist jerk_ , Mikaela thought without letting her smirk falter. She cocked her head and realized he didn't know jack about cars beyond the basics.

"Nobody told me I had to keep my hands pristine just for you." She kept her tone playful. "Anyway, how about we take a ride and see if your car tells me what's wrong?"

Wind disturbed one loose strand of dark hair on Max's head. Only one, because gel slicked the rest back. He glanced down at the callus-free hand Mikaela held out to him and hesitantly passed her his car key. The plastic fob had a tiny, fairly recent family portrait. Everybody wore identical black turtlenecks and fake smiles. It looked so Stepford.

Mikaela twirled the key on her finger and eased into the Rolls Royce driver's seat. Leather creaked underneath her weight. The dashboard had a polished wood finish with the light brown color carrying on throughout the vehicle's interior. Everything smelled like new leather and vanilla.

The car shifted when Max entered the passenger's side. They both buckled their seatbelts in a series of clicks.

Joe waved as he entered the garage to answer the phone. Mikaela waved back before roughly sticking the key in the ignition and turning it. Bleach scents flooded the interior when the vehicle hummed to life.

She didn't need to know a car intimately to judge the state of its engine. Most fancy cars vibrated smoothly. This one shook like a jackhammer.

 _Yup, his engine is a mess_ , she thought to herself.

"You smell that?" asked Max.

"Mmhmm. Might be a fuel injection issue. Does it cut out when you're idling?"

"And when I'm driving! First was when I stopped in my driveway and the second happened as I was driving down the hill on Baker street. Do you know what's wrong?"

"I'll find out soon."

Mikaela shfited the car out of park and executed a smooth U-turn to exit the street-side driveway. Shakiness aside, it handled like a dream.

Once out of the driveway, she sped through the empty street. Max's eyes flew open wide.

"Y-You're going a tad fast."

"Nah. I'll show you fast."

Mikaela floored it. The speedometer climbed to seventy miles per hour. Engine vibrations tickled her wrists. Bleach smells wafted through the vehicle's interior. She sensed the stall brewing.

"There, it's about to cut out," said Max. "Slow down before we get ticket-- look! The check engine light is on!"

"Relax! I'm stressing the engine to repeat the problem," Mikaela replied sweetly.

Traffic, dead ahead. She took her foot off the accelerator to slow down and blew through a yellow light.

Perspiration beaded on Max's hairline. Mikaela crossed into the middle lane without signaling and skidded to a jolting stop at the last red light before a major freeway onramp. People _hated_ it when somebody's car died there.

The Rolls Royce rattled to silence as soon as the vehicle ceased moving. Mikaela placed the car in park and cranked the engine, but it wouldn't catch. She switched on the emergency blinkers when the traffic light turned green.

Horns honked. Cars veered around them. A lot of people saluted Max with their middle finger.

Mikaela said, "I'm pretty sure it's a fuel pump issue."

Max's lips tightened until his jaw muscles twitched. "How do you know?"

"Pretend it's your car having a heart attack. The fuel pump is the heart, and it's not working for some reason. The engine needs gas pumping in order to run. It'll be easy to fix if it's the fuel pump."

"What if it's not?"

"Then I'll have to keep digging to find out what's up."

"I have four cars. This one, a BMW, a Mustang and a Lamborghini." Max sighed, rubbing his chin again. "But something about a Rolls Royce is classy. This baby's my favorite, and she cost the most."

 _She_... Mikaela felt her internal organs shrivel up in disgust. How unfortunate, she was about to sympathize with his worry, too! She shook it off and made it a joke instead.

"Don't worry, I'll get your little girlfriend fixed."

Max smiled halfway. "Too bad spouses aren't so easy, eh?"

Images of Optimus floating in space, unconscious and frozen, flitted through her mind. She narrowed her eyes, making their blue more intense.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Sherry goes nuts if she doesn't take her anxiety meds. Her parents were top tier religious crazies. They convinced her she was going to Hell because she's a girl. I heard 'em scream at her for an hour when she was two minutes past her curfew. They didn't let her have a life outside school."

Max's eyes lit up when he talked about his wife. "Then I came along and we dated in secret 'til she turned eighteen and split from her parents. I promised to protect her from the real evil that's out there. Sweet girl, but her parents didn't teach her how to be an adult. She's on meds and sees a shrink once a month to stay sane."

"Oh. So what do you do when you're not deployed?" Mikaela couldn't believe he aired his wife's personal issues like a casual conversation piece. Did he care about _anything_ besides making himself look more heroic than the people around him?

He looked straight ahead at the traffic light turning red. "I'm a real estate agent. So, uh, can you try starting the car again?"

The tremor in his voice was music.

She cranked the engine again. No luck. It wouldn't turn over.

They sat through another light cycle. Horns blared. People yelled and cussed.

"I'm calling Joe for a tow." Mikaela freed her phone from her pocket. "This car's dead on the road."

Max's haughty demeanor melted. His flinch became a tiny life preserver in the bottomless sea of his sleaze.

"Can you fix it?" he asked.

Time to twist the knife.

"Maybe." Mikaela replied. She grinned saccharinely and called Joe for the tow truck.

Beside her, Max began to sweat.

Forty-five minutes and a tow-truck trip later, she discovered it wasn't just the fuel pump. The Rolls Royce's fuel tank was rusted, the hoses were shot and rust particles gummed up the filters. Mikaela barely avoided smirking at her handiwork as she dug around the engine to reach the fuel pump.

"Yep, fuel pump is shot." She held up a damaged hose. "See? Total mess. I better check the whole engine to make sure nothing else is gummed up like this."

Max covered his mouth, switched to pressing both palms against his cheeks as if to cover his eyes and hung his head. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he called Sherry to pick him up.

Mikaela continued her controlled rampage. Joe noticed Max's distressed pacing and chatted him up until Sherry arrived forty-five minutes later.

Of course, she pulled up in the bright red BMW Max bragged about earlier. She emerged wearing an airy peach blouse right off the fashion runway, crisp white slacks from a high-end store and uncomfortable-looking nude peep toe pumps. Diamond earrings costing more than a Disneyland trip dangled off her ears. Bright pink lipstick defined her thin, pointy lips. Gold cat-eye sunglasses with brown lenses sat perched atop her nose. Her bleached hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

"Hey, sugar," she said.

Max's eyes softened when he saw his wife. Sherry ignored Mikaela completely when she exchanged a kiss with him. She climbed into the passenger's seat of the BMW and hurriedly touched up her lipstick.

Mikaela tapped the driver's side window after Max got seated and belted in. She leaned forward enough to show cleavage and smiled innocently.

"You'll get a call from me or Joe when your _lady_ is ready."

Max's eyes darted downward at her chest, then back up at her face. Sherry scowled at her instead of giving Max a what-for about his wandering gaze.

He slid his silver sunglasses on. "Sure thing."

Sherry's scowl turned into a weird smirk. The window rolled up, reducing her and Max to faceless silhouettes. Mikaela swore a layer of invisible grime coated her skin by the time they pulled away.

Repairs weren't going to gouge Max's wallet as much as she hoped, but seeing him worry about his superfluously expensive car was worth more than money.

Nothing Mikaela did to him or his precious _stuff_ came close to the misery he caused Optimus.

 _Big picture. Think of the big picture. He's not even a mark on it_ , Mikaela told herself when she ducked under the shiny plum hood.

.o

A white Nissan Altima requiring a new battery, a green Volkswagen van hurting for fresh spark plugs and a motorcycle with bad pipes let Mikaela delay finishing Max's car until late in the afternoon. She hoped he spent the entire day silently freaking out about his precious Rolls Royce.

Her cell phone rang at eight o'clock-- right as she slammed the plum hood down with more force than necessary. She wiped her greasy hands clean, left a few smudges behind when she cleaned up the chrome and grabbed her phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, mom," Elita said. "Are you off work?"

A strange note in her voice indicated this wasn't a typical phone call. Mikaela held the phone to her ear instead of putting it on speaker.

"Yeah, I'm about to leave."

"Be careful. Mags said TRF is snooping around in the forest. They're half a mile from the cabin, but he thinks that's too close."

Mikaela's heart skipped a beat. She kept her voice casual and automatically utilized their agreed-upon code talk.

"When did the exterminator say he's coming over?"

"Half an hour ago. He was coming back from patrol when he saw men in black military gear. They have rifles, mom."

A slow, deep breath kept her voice steady. "Where are you and Mags?"

"Mags is stuck by the empty lot at the bottom of the hill. They drove past him while he was testing the energon sensors."

"So he's out buying more of that nasty bug spray? Damn, how many roaches did you see?"

"He said he saw two jeeps, but there might be more he didn't see. I can't see anybody out the windows. Mom, I'm kinda freaked out."

Sweat gathered on Mikaela's upper lip. "Gross. Are there any roaches in the upstairs bathroom?"

Quiet shuffling noises started on Elita's line. Her breathing whooshed through the earpiece. "I'm checking out the upstairs windows."

The pause went on forever. Mikaela stuck her fingers in her hair and grasped her scalp to massage away a pounding tension headache.

"I can't see anybody through the trees. Should I go out on the deck?"

Joe entered the main garage and raised his eyebrows. Mikaela mouthed Elita's name to him and he nodded. She refocused on her phone.

"No. Stay in. I don't want the exterminator to know you're home alone. Oh! Did you put the chips in a freezer bag and seal it?"

"Did that before I called. Everything's locked. Should I hide in the basement?"

Mikaela told her where to wait. "You want to-- no. No! El, don't you dare swing that crowbar at them. What's gotten into you?"

"Okay." More shuffling on Elita's end. Metal clanked in the background. "I'm heading to the garage now."

Mikaela maintained an outward appearance of calm. She twirled her cleaning rag.

"Good job, kiddo. Call me back if the exterminator shows up before I'm home. Tell Mags to stay away from the bug spray."

Elita snickered. "I'm in position. I'll text Mags what you said. Bye, mom, love you."

"Okay. Love you, too, El. Bye."

Mikaela pocketed her phone and passed Max's keys to Joe.

"Sorry, Joe, I'm gonna have to skip that dinner invite. My place is crawling with roaches. Elita is freaking out." She kept up the charade by shaking her head. "Kids, gotta love 'em. Mind telling your husband it's not his cooking?"

"Roaches give Rishi the willies. I'll tell him about your little problem in full, gory detail."

"There you go. Make the poor man squirm."

Joe blessed her with his rich, gentle laugh. "Will do. I'll call Max and lock up after he gets his car. Have a good night!"

It was awesome to have an understanding boss. She smiled at his kindness.

"G'night, Joe. Thanks."

Mikaela unbuckled her tool belt and threw it on the shelf labeled with her name. She jogged through the hall of dingy offices.

Dusk turned the sky shades of orange, gold and blue. Absolutely the worst time of day for driving visibility-- everything was silhouettes or gleams of light off shiny surfaces. Red taillights and white headlights sliced the dimness. Yellowish street lamps created dim amber pools on the streets and sidewalks.

Mikaela opened her driver's side door. Humidity trapped the day's hot air in her truck. Getting in felt like entering a bathroom after someone took a steamy shower. Her steering wheel had a fuzzy pink cover, which kept it from searing her hands. Buckling her seatbelt didn't require touching metal. Hot air blasted through the air conditioning vents when she started the engine. She peeled out of her parking space without waiting for it to cool.

Rush hour wound down. Traffic didn't clog the busier streets, but hitting all the red lights when she wanted to get home tested every last nerve she had.

Time rushed forward without her.

An eternal twenty minutes' drive took Mikaela away from the city's edge. Streetlights thinned until they disappeared altogether, leaving her with the stars and darkening western horizon.

Pine scents wafted through the air. Fewer cars populated the road. Mikaela drove straight towards the dark shadow of the forest ahead. Trees soon surrounded her. She switched over to her high beams.

Ultra Magnus idled in a service driveway at the very bottom of the hill. The dirt field behind him was a pumpkin patch in October and sold Christmas trees in December.

He flashed his right blinker twice. She did the same in acknowledgement.

One turn later brought forth tree trunks, pine needles and the gray two lane road. A black military jeep sat nestled among the bushes. Its occupants were nowhere in sight.

Mikaela switched back to regular headlights as she rounded the last corner. During the day, that final turn brought the cabin into view. At night, it was invisible if the lights were off. Elita wisely kept everything dark.

Mikaela shut off her headlights, pulled into the driveway and put the truck in park. No tattletale tail lights to give her away. She took out her phone and sent a text.

**I'm in the driveway.**

Elita manually lifted the garage door enough to slip underneath and gently lowered it after she passed. Her black hooded tank top and matching bike shorts made her a moving shadow when she stopped to unroll the black soft top tonneau cover over the Silverado's truck bed. She hauled herself into the passenger's side, dropped her dark blue backpack on the floor and swiftly fastened her seatbelt.

"I brought the caltrops."

Caltrops-- fancy little devices for destroying tires. Mikaela fashioned them out of wood blocks with five long nails hammered all the way through. Their design kept one nail pointed up after being tossed or dropped. She painted them all dark matte gray to make them harder for a pursuer to see.

"Good job." Mikaela reversed out of the driveway. She didn't switch on her headlights until she turned the first corner. "Look around, do you see the soldiers at all?"

Elita craned her neck to peek out both the driver's and passenger's side windows. "No. No flashlight beams, either. I think they're wearing night vision goggles."

Mikaela kept her expression casual upon passing the jeep parked in the bushes. Once beyond it, she activated the Silverado's rear backup camera. "Yeah. I was afraid of that."

Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted another jeep idling at the curve in the road ahead. That wasn't there before. She took a slow, deep breath through her nose. Keeping herself calm allowed for clearer thinking.

_Nobody tailed me all the way home. I rotate my routes. I watch my back. Maybe Max recognized Optimus' voice. Maybe his spoiled bitch wife told him I talked to Optimus. Why else is this happening now?_

Mikaela glanced at her side mirror. Just in time to see the new jeep's headlights come on.

"Mom, that jeep--"

"I know, El. Hang tight. We can't afford to do anything stupid."

She turned right onto another road that curved sharply left. It passed through a protected forest hiking trail and reconnected with another street leading either into the city or back onto the cabin trail. Sometimes she used it during her route rotations.

Mikaela went slightly over the speed limit as she reached the street. Then she made a seemingly illogical left turn onto the bridge going north over the dry riverbed. She followed a straightaway among the trees until another left circled her around onto the winding road leading to the cabin again.

The jeep appeared in her backup cameras after she bypassed the cabin. Now the jeep nestled in the bushes turned on its lights and joined in.

"We're officially being tailed," said Mikaela.

"Crap," Elita muttered. "Can we lose 'em?"

"I'm going to try. Grab our hats and get the caltrops ready."

Elita dragged her backpack onto her lap and reached into the glove compartment. She pulled out the black Adidas cap for herself and handed Mikaela the brown mesh trucker's hat.

Mikaela tapped the button that lowered Elita's window. Balmy air spiraled in around the coolness coming from the vents. She slowed at the first gentle curve in the road. Trees obscured what lay ahead. Evening transformed the landscape into carbon black silhouettes against starry oceanic blue.

"Okay, El. Grab a caltrop and stick your arm out the window as far as you can. I'll tell you when to throw it."

Elita did what she was told. Mikaela's palms began to sweat when she saw a third jeep emerge from a hidden gap between two pine trees. She kept her speed civil as she followed the road. Visibility in this area was awful at night, but she knew exactly where the gentle curve became a sharp bend ending in a straightaway.

"Okay, Elita... _throw!_ " Mikaela stepped on the gas when she rounded the bend.

Elita flicked the caltrop backwards like a bride tossing a bouquet.

BANG! One jeep fishtailed off the road. Elita hurled two more caltrops. The remaining jeeps got wise. They slowed down and dodged.

But the delay gave Mikaela a few precious seconds to accelerate. Hikers climbed into a black pickup truck parked beside a boulder. They yelled at her for whipping by them.

She rolled up the windows reduce drag. Air stopped roaring into the truck. She honked her horn twice as she zoomed past Ultra Magnus, twisted the steering wheel and drifted the Silverado onto the south-facing two lane road.

Ultra Magnus pulled out of his hiding place driveway and drove slowly, mimicking an oblivious trucker fresh off a delivery.

"Want me to throw more?" asked Elita.

Mikaela shifted gears. "No, we'll screw up innocent cars."

Her phone vibrated. She wriggled it out of her pocket.

"Elita, get that."

"It's a text from Mags." Elita swiped her thumb up the screen. "He can delay the jerks for five minutes. He's jamming their signal so they can't call anybody."

The narrow road ended at the overpass bridge leading into the city.

"Perfect. Hang on, kiddo!"

Mikaela adjusted the stick shift, stomped on the gas and let it rip. The Silverado's speedometer needle climbed to ninety miles per hour. She switched on her headlights. Dotted lines on the asphalt became a white blur.

Mikaela's jangled nerves slowly cooled. Seeing street lamps prompted her to slow down. The Silverado practically coasted downhill. She was still speeding, though it wouldn't grab too much attention.

Her phone buzzed again. Elita's voice was thin when she read it. "Mags says the jerks just passed him, but they're tailing the hikers. I guess they didn't get our plates."

"My dad used to say overeager people make stupid mistakes like that--"

"--so use it against them to save your life."

"Yeah. We're going to be okay, El."

Mikaela gunned through an intersection just before the yellow light turned red. Somebody blared their horn. She hung a hard right and drifted into the driveway of Joe's Garage.

Closed, just like she expected.

Joe trusting her with a key became a blessing in disguise. She unlocked the facility's back door, flicked on the hall lights and raced into the main garage to open the big doors. Then she sprinted back to the truck, drove around and pulled inside.

She punched the "close" button to drop the doors again.

"Elita, go shut the back door. Turn off the lights in the hall, too."

"Okay." Elita's flip-flops pattered on the cement floor.

Mikaela ducked into the employee bathroom adjacent to the main garage. It had a dingy street facing hopper window, and it allowed just enough illumination from street lamps to see without turning on the bright interior light.

Ultra Magnus headed straight through the intersection. The innocent Silverado full of hikers-- a brand new one, judging by the lack of formal license plants-- made a left. The two jeeps followed it out of sight.

"Door's locked. Mom?"

"In here, El."

Elita's footsteps slapped towards the bathroom.

"Oh, thank God!"

She sprinted into a stall and slammed the door. Plastic packaging rattled. She used the toilet, flushed, reappeared and washed her hands.

Mikaela's heart rate settled down. Her fingers trembled from the adrenaline jitters. Nausea soured her stomach.

Humid air got muggy without a fan or air conditioner to dispel it. She removed her hat and turned on the sink to splash cold water all over her sweaty face.

Elita wandered out of the bathroom. She found a dirty old halogen lantern under a worktable. Its pale blue-white glow gave just enough illumination to avoid tripping on equipment in the main garage.

"Mom, what are we gonna do?"

Mikaela left the bathroom without drying her hands. "Head northwest."

"Why can't we go back to the cabin? They didn't come near it."

"Cop-logic. They know we live in the area. They'll stake it out and wait for us to show up if they think we have to go home for supplies."

"This is crap," said Elita. She hurled her hat on the ground and crossed her arms, scowling. "I thought Decepticons were going to put us on the run, not other human beings! What's _wrong_ with this planet?"

"People are sheep." Mikaela shrugged. She leaned against the Silverado's grill.

"They're stupid!" Elita kicked her hat, picked it up and threw it into the open passenger side door of the Silverado. Her upper lip pulled tight against her front teeth. "Those jerks won't learn the difference between Autobot and Decepticon sigils! 'Oh, hey, let's just shoot them all!' Damn it!"

"El, language." Mikaela pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. The adrenaline comedown left her mentally and physically exhausted.

"I don't care! Have some more! Fuck, bitch, shit, ass, hell, damn!" Elita slammed the truck door with all her might. Her voice rose in volume to fill the garage.

"The human race is great at crapping on every good thing it gets! We screw ourselves all the time! We look at history, say it'll never happen again and then we make it happen again! This is stupid, mom, and we're all paying for it!"

Telling Elita not to swear wasn't a battle worth fighting right now. Mikaela sighed, struggling against the desolate reality they faced. Memories of car chases, gang members, shady neighborhoods and police cruises tumbled across her thoughts. She never wanted Elita to feel uncertainty like that, yet here they were.

"I hate this!" Elita's rant continued. "I'm a Prime, like dad, and I can't do squat! I have to sit here! What can I do by sitting here?"

Those words struck like bullets. Mikaela rounded on Elita and grabbed her shoulders.

"What can you do? You can stay alive. That's all either of us can do right now. No, listen." She smoothed Elita's messy hair. "When things like this happen, I always ask myself 'what can I control in this situation?'"

"Tch."

"Look, El." Mikaela held up her keys. "I have this truck. I have you. We have Ultra Magnus. We have supplies to keep us going for awhile. We can run, and we can hide. But there's one more thing we both need to control."

Elita grimaced and let her head thud lightly against the truck bed. "Yeah, what?"

"Ourselves." Mikaela half-smiled at the irony. Wrestling a tornado into submission sounded easier than asking a girl on her first period to reign in her emotions.

"How about I 'control' the situation by kicking everyone's butt?"

"Heh, there's a time and place for butt kicking, and this isn't it."

"Then tell me when-- oh, God."

Elita covered her mouth and ran into the bathroom. Mikaela silently counted to thirty before following her.

"When's the last time you took an Ibuprofen?"

"This morning. Why am I puking?"

"Hormones, kiddo. Don't they suck?"

"Yeah!" Elita heaved into the bowl again. "Mom, no offense, can you leave me alone?"

"Sure. Just a sec."

Mikaela padded back into the shop, sifted through her duffle bag and returned with a bottle of Ibuprofen and a chocolate chip granola bar. She set them on the silver shelf under the mirror.

"Hang in there, El. The first two or three days suck the worst."

"Good to know."

More retching coughs followed. Mikaela fought back a sympathy gag and quietly retreated into the main garage.

.o

Tapping scrapes woke Mikaela. Something seemed different, but her sleep-addled brain couldn't wrap itself around why. Her back ached from laying her sleeping bag on the hard cement floor. She drowsily checked the time on her phone. Three in the morning.

Fresh scratching noises. Now it clicked. The bathroom light was on and Elita wasn't curled up in her sleeping bag.

Yawning, Mikaela padded towards the bathroom. The buzzing fluorescent bulb in the ceiling blasted her dark-adjusted eyes with harsh whiteness. She closed them until her forehead stopped wrinkling in protest.

Green Cybertronian glyphs covered every flat surface within Elita's reach. Elita stumbled along the far wall with a green Sharpie. Her scrawling hand didn't miss a beat.

Mikaela rubbed the crust out of her eyes. "El?"

Elita didn't respond. She panted so loudly her breath echoed off the walls. Her hand moved as if pulled by an unseen force. She sketched a figure on the outermost toilet stall wall-- something akin to a deranged Disney princess with upswept hair and a dress made of tentacles.

Mikaela recognized the glyphs Elita wrote around the woman.

 _Deceiver. Traitor. Liar. Ruin_.

Elita dropped the marker and faced the trash can. She smacked her lips. Her hands tugged at her shirt. Drool spilled from her mouth. The whites of her eyes shimmered between her fluttering eyelids. Why wasn't she snapping out of it? She always came to after she stopped writing!

"Elita?"

No response.

Mikaela clapped her hands by Elita's ear.

Nothing.

She smoothed Elita's hair and bolted to grab her phone. A second later, she raced back into the bathroom, shot a quick video and sent it to Ultra Magnus while frantically texting him for help.

Ultra Magnus materialized his hologram by the door. Elita didn't acknowledge him. He cupped her face between his palms, passed a hand over her brow and rested the other on the back of her head. Still not satisfied, he positioned his fingertips above her cheekbones and ears as if initiating a Vulcan mind meld.

"Oh...wow."

Mikaela's stomach muscles knotted up. She chewed the tip off her thumbnail. "Is she okay?"

"Mmhmm. I'm detecting a lot of synchronous gamma waves. She is listening intently to something, and it's not us."

Servos whirred when he fixed his optics on Mikaela. "This is not a typical glyph attack, but it is not harming her either." He refocused on Elita's face. "Here she comes. Get ready, she's angry."

Elita wrenched herself free of Ultra Magnus' hands, spun on her heels and faced the drawing on the bathroom stall.

"That bitch!" She sprang at the picture and punched it so hard the toilet paper dispenser inside rattled. "Stupid, ugly bitch!"

"Elita!" Mikaela grabbed her daughter from behind and pulled her back. "El, c'mon. It's okay."

"No! She lies and tells people _she_ made the Cybertronian race! She confuses people into believing her and manipulates them into working for her! I gotta call dad and tell him!"

"No! Honey, you can't."

"Let me call him!" Elita kept swinging at the air.

Ultra Magnus wedged himself between her and the artwork. She charged at him. He caught her by the shoulders and brought her closer in a tight hug.

"I heard you guys talking, but I couldn't--" She sniffled, clinging to him. "How long was I messed up?"

Ultra Magnus looked down and cupped the back of her head. "You were unresponsive to us for over three minutes. Speaking of glyphs..."

His brow ridges knit when he peered at the left-hand corner under the hopper window.

"Elita, you wrote out an old legend."

"I know," said Elita. She pulled free of his arms and sat against the wall by the door. "I was told to write it, so I did."

Mikaela knew enough Cybertronian to get the gist of random sentences when she read them. Finding the first word of the entire story eluded her. Cybertronian text had a convoluted grammar structure that depended on what they wrote about.

Stories required a reader to go from left to right the way most human languages flowed. But Cybertronians didn't indent anything in their stories. New "paragraphs" were denoted by starting a new line and reading it right to left. Dialogue appeared as vertical columns read from the top down or the bottom up, and the direction a reader went first depended on which way the text before it flowed. It was the stuff of nightmares for linguistics teachers.

Ultra Magnus slid his hand sideways, pointing. "Twelve Knights served Quintessa billions of years before Optimus or Megatron existed. She presented herself as a Prime to trick people into doing her bidding. The Knights created to serve the Primes noticed she used the Staff for her own benefit instead of aiding others and realized her Primacy was a ruse. Her thirst for power did not align with that of the true Primes.

"The Knights took the Staff and fled into deep space to prevent her from harming future life in the universe. Where they went wasn't recorded directly, but legend says...where was that part?"

He tapped his fingers against his chin and scanned the wall below the mirror.

"Ah. Legend says the Staff is hidden on the back of Unicron, Cybertron's ancient foe."

Facing them again, he concluded, "That is the 'too long, didn't read' version. Nobody knows what Unicron looks like, where he is or if he really exists at all. A famous Cybertronian horror story states he wanders around the galaxy and eats planets."

Elita massaged her temples. "So he's a robot Galactus?"

"Uhh...no. His description in the story says his alt-mode is a planet. Imagine a hybrid of Pac-Man and the Langoliers."

Mikaela snorted at a mental image of Pac-Man with giant buzz-saw teeth. It stopped being funny when she considered a planet-eating robot might be as big or bigger than the Earth.

Ultra Magnus glanced around at the defaced walls. "This hiding place is compromised."

"Sorry," murmured Elita. She got up and trudged into the garage.

Mikaela maintained her silence until she saw Elita's phone light up. She grabbed Ultra Magnus' arm and hauled him to the far end of the bathroom.

"Be real with me, Mags. Is she okay?"

He faced her and confidently squared his shoulders. "Ratchet's notes state that AllSpark knowledge is bubbling up as her brain forms connections. It makes sense that a lot of rapid growth means stronger surges of information."

She massaged the back of her neck to defeat a brewing tension headache. "Is this how it's going to be forever, or will it stop after puberty?"

"That...I can't say. Ratchet was killed before he finished his theories about it."

Well, that figured. Mikaela bitterly wondered what other uncertainties life intended to throw at her.

"Okay." She brushed past him to splash cool water on her face. "El and I are gonna head northwest to Tranquility, my hometown. The original Autobot team used an old auto parts warehouse as a hideout. We ditched it while I was pregnant with Elita. Hey, can you see if it's still there?"

"Let me check a few websites." Ultra Magnus ducked his head and planted his hands on his hips. "Mmhmm. Found it. Somebody turned it into a auto repair garage like this one, then vacated it. The property around it is empty as well."

"Small town businesses don't last like they used to." Mikaela grabbed two paper towels from the dispenser.

"May I offer advice?" asked Ultra Magnus.

"Go for it."

"Abandon your truck and allow me to transport you and Elita to your new location. TRF may be patrolling the area under civilian cover. They will scrutinize each gunmetal gray Silverado they encounter. Every stop for fuel or other necessities puts you at risk of capture."

He had a point. It still made her groan. She _just_ finished making payments on that damn truck.

"Okay. I'll round up Elita." Mikaela tightened her lips. Survival was more important than material items. "But first, I need to use the toilet. Some privacy, please?"

"Of course."

Kicking the stall door shut eased her pangs of frustration. She used the toilet, washed up and headed out to an uncertain future.

.o

 _"_... _The wild dogs cry out in the night_  
_as they grow restless_ ,  
_longing for some solitary company_.  
_I know that I must do what's right_ ,  
_as sure as Kilimanjaro rises_  
_like Olympus above the Serengeti_.  
_I seek to cure what's deep inside_ ,  
_frightened of this thing that I've become_... _"_

Of all the music Ultra Magnus chose to blast, _Africa_ by Toto wasn't a choice Mikaela expected. Not that she minded-- it was funny listening to him and Elita shout-sing the chorus at each other.

 _"_... _It's gonna take a lot to_ __  
take me away from you!  
_There's nothing that a hundred men_  
_or more could ever do_.  
_I bless the rains down in Africa_!  
_We're gonna take some time_  
_to do the things we never have_!  
_Ooh ooh_... _"_

Mikaela played an imaginary keyboard during the instrumental bridge. She sang along the next time the chorus came up because it took her mind off the unknown looming ahead.

Ultra Magnus hastily assembled a playlist of the cheesiest songs he knew. Elita shrieked with laughter when he played Rick Astley's _Never Gonna Give You Up_.

"Mags, are you Rickrolling us?" asked Mikaela.

"Of course. Certain things must be done."

Elita snickered. "Mom, you're talking to the robot meme king."

"Excuse me?" Ultra Magnus huffed in mock offense. "I am a meme _connoisseur_."

She wriggled in her seat. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, really!" He paused at a red light. "By the way, Elita, Mikaela..."

"Hm?" Mikaela glanced at the rectangular driver's side mirror.

"All your base are belong to us, because you both lost the game."

" ** _AUGH!_** " Elita face-palmed. "Do not want."

Mikaela slapped his steering wheel and cackled. "Are you gonna give me a glass of wine to go with that cheese?"

Ultra Magnus chuckled at that. "Nope. No drinking while pretend-driving."

The light turned green. He cruised up the onramp and merged into the freeway traffic. Tined concrete growled beneath his tires.

Comfortable quietude replaced the silliness. Mikaela reflected on what took place before everybody hit the road.

She abandoned her Silverado in a Target parking lot six blocks southeast of Joe's Garage. Spite prompted her to rip the license plates off and chuck them down the storm drain under the curb. Then she removed all personal accoutrements from the sun visors, rear view mirror and glove compartment. The tents were too unwieldy to drag around, so she left them in the truck bed.

Elita checked in, around and under all the seats for any identifying items that got lost over the years.

Ultra Magnus swung his doors open on a new, uncertain future. Elita and Mikaela hopped in without hesitation. Their duffle bags found a new home in the storage space under his sleeper mattress.

Dumping the Silverado was the right decision. The creepy black jeeps stopped next to Ultra Magnus at an intersection three blocks west of Target. They went left, he hung a right.

Mikaela yawned. Heading northwest was scenic, yet uneventful. She watched a gold and orange sunrise via the rear view mirrors while Elita dozed in the passenger's seat.

Northbound traffic thickened as the sun climbed. Mikaela noticed a group of rowdy fresh-faced yuppies carpooling in a blue PT Cruiser. They sped up to keep pace with Ultra Magnus. The blonde fellow in the back passenger side seat looked up pumped his arm. Ultra Magnus tooted his horn twice. The yuppies hooted and hollered.

"Huh?" Elita woke up at the horn. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Ultra Magnus replied, "Just entertaining a few earthlings."

The vibrating rumble ceased as asphalt replaced tined concrete. Hills and mountainsides gave way to brick sound walls, blue skies, buildings and street signs. Changing elevation created pressure in Mikaela's ears. She plugged her nose, closed her mouth and gently exhaled. Her ears popped, relieving the discomfort.

Salty beach scents wafted on the wind. The blurry sapphire line of the ocean sparkled in the distance.

Mikaela enjoyed the fluttery acceleration of cruising down the off ramp.

A sprawling three-story white building existed where Bolivia's Finest Quality Used Car Lot and Petting Zoo used to be. It had a solid cement foundation and artistically sloping walls decorated with triangular mosaic patterns. Digital signage labeled it as Tranquility Shopping Mall between flashy advertisements.

"That's new," Mikaela pointed out the mall.

Elita sat up straighter. "Whoa."

"The town has expanded," said Ultra Magnus.

Colorful tract housing lined the southern outskirts like molars in a giant's jaw. Clean, freshly-laid residential streets suggested they were built within the last five years.

Green street signs and modern light poles punctuated the sidewalk. There used to be a small shanty town along the railroad tracks bordering Tranquility. Clean gray gravel and a junkyard stood in its place, a harsh reminder that time was a tsunami sweeping the past away.

Ultra Magnus stopped at the busy intersection in front of the mall. People crossed the street, entered the buildings and moved for those who exited. Scintillating cars filled the broad parking lot.

"That's huge," Elita said.

"Probably expensive as hell, too," Mikaela grumbled.

Ultra Magnus lurched into motion again when the light turned green. He eased right onto the street containing Mikaela's old high school. Home of the Tranquility Toucans and one of two high schools in town. She barely recognized it through the gray painted wood panels, black trim and white lockers. Once upon a time, the buildings boasted hideous mustard yellow stucco walls with brown trim and dark green lockers. The school's nasty colors earned it the nickname _Tranquility Turds_. Now it looked like bird poop splattered on a car.

"Somebody find the designer and slap him," she muttered.

"Ick." Elita wrinkled her nose, "That's _bad_."

"I match that color scheme," Ultra Magnus huffed.

"You don't have the black," Elita pointed out. "Plus, you're white and silver. That's pretty. White and gray is drab, like a hospital room."

"Or a casket," Mikaela snickered. "What color is your boyfriend?"

"Ouch." Ultra Magnus snickered. "This will sound odd to you, but I don't know. I haven't seen him since he scanned an Earth vehicle."

Mikaela kept teasing him. "Well, is he taller than you? Shorter? Stocky, thin?"

Elita's face iced over at the turn in conversation. She crossed her arms and stared out the window as they headed northwest towards the older industrial area.

He flashed his left turn signal. "Definitely shorter than I, and quite agile."

"Is that all you're going to tell--"

"Mom," Elita rudely cut into the conversation. "Is that the warehouse on the left?"

Mikaela narrowed her eyes at her daughter's boorishness. "Excuse you. Yes."

Wooden utility poles flanked the parking area, which encircled the warehouse like an asphalt moat. Nails, paper scraps and graffiti still decorated them. Dirt fields separated by chain link fences and vacant storefronts surrounded the abandoned warehouse. Industrial business wasn't doing well.

The old warehouse, a rectangular three-story A-frame building, had a dark blue metal exterior and a chipped white trim. Solar panels and a gray rain gutter lined the rooftop. Drainage spouts poked out from all four corners of the building. Their placement made the structure resemble an awkward quadruped. Each spout emptied into dips that carried rainwater towards the street. Windows situated at the warehouse's second story level lined the north and south walls to allow daylight in. Empty electric signage hung above the twin steel roll-up garage doors. Two gold-tinted floor to ceiling picture windows framed them like watchful eyes. The windows and paint job were 'new' additions.

"Wow." Mikaela breathed. "El, scout around for an opening. You're smaller than me, you might be able to squeeze through and let us in."

"Why can't Mags use his hologram?"

Ultra Magnus' air brakes hissed as he pulled past the front of the warehouse, backed up and parked with his grill twelve inches away from the right hand garage door.

"I will if you can't locate an entrance," he said.

"Tch, fine."

"El," Mikaela grasped Elita's arm and looked her in the eyes. "What's your problem?"

"Nothing's my _problem_ , mom." Elita pulled free, scowling.

"Then drop the attitude."

"I don't have one!"

Mikaela kept her expression neutral. "Okay, why are you yelling?"

"Because you're acting like I'm mad when I'm not. Now I am!"

"Okay, you're unhappy. I get it." Mikaela counted to ten internally and calmly utilized Optimus' favorite line for this situation. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No! It's none of your business! Get off my case!"

Elita hopped out of Ultra Magnus and disappeared behind the warehouse's east wall.

"Sheesh." Mikaela brushed off the sting of Elita's abrasiveness.

"Pre-teen angst must be difficult," said Ultra Magnus.

She rolled her eyes and nodded. "It's hell."

"She is crying behind the building. Should we approach her?"

"Nah." Mikaela checked the time on her phone. "She doesn't need us piling on her. She's going through a lot right now. Let's give her fifteen minutes. I'll check on her if she doesn't calm down before then."

Elita took ten.

Both steel doors retracted in a series of whining clanks. The lights inside the building were on. Elita stepped back and wiped her hair backwards off her shoulders.

"This place runs on solar power!" She called. "I turned on the AC and the lights. The toilets work, too."

"Nice work, kiddo."

Mikaela exited Ultra Magnus' driver's side. Cool air blasted her face. Metal, oil and dust scents brought back childhood memories of helping her dad work on cars. She inhaled, passed through the gaping doorway and looked around.

An old tow truck like the one she hotwired in Mission City sat forlornly beside the second door. Four side by side two-column lift systems denoted the exact center of the gray cement floor. The north wall was home to several orange and silver bulk storage shelves with wire decks. Two engine blocks, air filters and a half dozen tires were their sole contents. Hubcaps of varying sizes dangled on hooks screwed into the south wall. A strong six foot butcher block workbench occupied the northeast corner, and the rickety cupboards above it held ragged tool belts and crusty grease-stained rags.

"El, did you see any graffiti anywhere?" asked Mikaela.

Elita crinkled her nose and shook dust out of her hair. "Nope, but there's a ladder in the back and a little trapdoor on the roof. I guess it's a fire escape or something. I had to do some _Mission: Impossible_ shenanigans to get on the catwalk and get down here."

Ultra Magnus eased inside. His Kenworth disguise reconfigured until he stood upright in robot mode. As usual, his antennae popped up last. He tapped his foot on the floor to test the acoustics while the segmented door rattled shut behind him. An approving smile narrowed his optics.

"I like this. It's roomy, and the outdoor sounds are damped."

Mikaela glanced past his head at the drop ceiling concealing the silver duct work. That was new. Suspended open strip light fixtures dangled off enormous steel beams. They came within six inches of Ultra Magnus' antennae. Industrial ceiling fans separated the lights into clean rows. She wondered if she could knock the ceiling panels down by hurling her shoes at them.

"Hey, Mags, poke that ceiling tile above you. What's it made of?"

"This?" Ultra Magnus prodded it with his finger, which tilted it loose and caused it to drop onto his head. He jiggled it in his hand before putting it back in its proper place. "They're PVC. I suspect they were put here to control noise."

Elita jogged up the spiral staircase in the northeast corner. It led to a long catwalk stretched along the east wall. "These are the stairs I used to get down. Were they always here?"

"Yup." Mikaela gestured at the square modular office underneath the catwalk. "But that's new."

The modular office was little more than a tiny eight foot by eight foot metal cube built against the northeast corner. One solitary window broke up its stark white walls and looked out into the warehouse.

She peeked inside, glad to discover it had a functional overhead light. Four rectangular cardboard boxes full of packing peanuts lay open by the door.

Wild ideas ran through Mikaela's mind. She emptied the packing peanuts on the floor at the far end of the tiny room, spread them out until they formed an even layer and crushed the boxes flat. Now she had a space for laying out the sleeping bags. It wasn't perfect like an air mattress or a bed, but better than lying on bruising cement.

She exited the modular office and checked the tool belt in the cabinet. Two heavy wrenches were all that remained. Good for use as weapons if necessary.

"Hey, Mags?"

Ultra Magnus looked away from the massive windows. "Yes?"

"Pass me our bags?"

"Oh! Sure." He lifted his left chest plate, pulled open the panel underneath and produced the requested belongings.

"Thanks." Mikaela took everything off his hands.

The wrenches found a home between the sleeping bags.

Mikaela checked out the bathroom nestled in the east wall. There were three beige stalls on the north side-- two small ones and a big one with bars for disabled people. All three had working toilets and toilet paper. Three square white pedestal sinks occupied the south wall. The ancient shower got replaced with three showerheads arranged around a pillar like a high school gym locker room. A frosted glass wall provided privacy. What used to be a tiny sliding window for letting the steam escape was now a Jalousie with a crank.

She missed the warmth of the pale green tiles and charming seventies details. Everything was sterile white with beige accents. Modern chrome and sharp angles replaced the old, round fixtures. It looked like a hospital bathroom, and it reminded her that time didn't care about nostalgia.

Footsteps bounded down the spiral staircase with all the grace of Godzilla tap dancing through Tokyo.

"Mom, where are we sleeping?" Elita yelled.

"You don't need to yell," Mikaela replied. The bathroom acoustics rang like a bell.

Elita poked her head in. "Okay. Where are we sleeping?"

Mikaela showed her. "Our boudoir."

"Nice." Elita whistled. "So, what now?"

"What now?" Mikaela glanced up at Ultra Magnus, who sat in the exact spot where Optimus used to. "We survive."

.o

Four days passed.

Elita and Mikaela spent them cleaning the areas of the warehouse they intended to use. They didn't get it spotless, but their movements ceased stirring clouds of dust.

Mikaela kept getting texts from Joe. She answered exactly once, stating she skipped town to avoid a stalker ex, and ignored the rest. Elita grabbed that fib and ran with it to explain to her friends why she wasn't home. This, of course, led to a flurry of concerned responses. She finally shut her phone off because it kept buzzing.

"Slag," Ultra Magnus muttered on the fifth day.

Elita looked up from her phone. "What's up, Mags?"

"I just detected a TRF transmission. My identity is compromised. They know the make and model of my vehicle mode. And..." He squinted, "They found your abandoned Silverado. They don't know where we are."

"Great," Mikaela groaned. "Let's hope those assholes don't figure out where we ran. We're toast if they see you driving around."

"No need to worry." He raised his brow ridges, smirking. "It's Saturday. There is a truck show scheduled for the park east of here. I will have no problem scanning something new without being noticed."

"Okay, then." Mikaela folded her arms. "Go get your new look. I'll take El grocery shopping."

"Mom, seriously?"

"Our food's getting low. We can't camp out with Subway, Little Caesar's and MacDonald's. The people working there don't know we're on the run. They'll say they saw us if someone flashes our photo at them."

"She has a point," said Ultra Magnus.

Elita groaned. "Fine. Lemme change before we go."

A half hour later, Ultra Magnus set out to acquire a new vehicle mode while Elita and Mikaela took a bus across town. Going far from the warehouse would make it harder to keep track of their exact movements.

A quick look at Google Maps showed an Albertsons where K-Mart used to be. Mikaela double checked her shopping list and hoped the prices weren't outrageous.

The bus finally reached its destination. She nudged Elita, who slurped on a red cherry-flavored Blow Pop.

Sweltering air and gasoline fumes blasted in when the bus doors squeaked open.

Elita put the sucker in her mouth and exited the bus. Mikaela followed her, yawning. Packing peanuts weren't a mattress replacement. She longed for a proper night's sleep and wondered how Elita managed it.

The summer air was an invisible fleece blanket slapping everything in its path. Wobbling heat waves danced above the colorful vehicles parked in front of Albertsons. Radiated sunlight turned the cement and asphalt into a frying pan.

The bus pulled away with a loud pop-hiss. Gas fumes swirled behind it.

Sweat beaded all over Mikaela's face and neck. "Hm, I have a coupon for peas, two for--"

"We're _not_ getting canned peas again," Elita groused while they strolled towards the store, "They're disgusting."

Mikaela pocketed her phone. "Oh, c'mon, they weren't that bad."

"I'll scare all the priests in town with my puke if I have to eat peas again." Elita pretended to gag herself on the Blow Pop. "You can have 'em, but I _refuse_."

"Okay, Miss Ramsey," Mikaela fought another yawn, "What do you suggest instead of peas?"

"That's easy." She took the lollipop out of her mouth and grinned with red candy-stained teeth. "Get corn. Corn goes with everything."

An elderly man hobbled back and forth near the store's main entrance. His dirty brown jacket and torn green sweat pants hung loosely on his body. He had dark, leathery skin that highlighted his frayed white hair like a beacon.

"The end is coming! Get right with God before it's too late!"

He noticed Mikaela and swung a cardboard sign into view. It said: _Prepare for the Rapture!_

"We're good, thanks," said Mikaela. She brushed past the man to grab a shopping cart.

Two college girls wearing McDonald's polo shirts exited the store. The old man repeated his warning at them. They laughed, ignoring him.

"Crazy old geezer," said the taller girl.

"Totally." The shorter girl pulled keys from her pocket. She glanced back, "Call us up when you get sane, old fart!"

Mikaela saw Elita's shoulders tighten. She took hold of her arm and whispered in her ear, "Don't."

Elita dumped her unfinished sucker in the trash can outside the automatic doors and followed Mikaela towards the store.

"They made fun of him."

"He has problems." Mikaela welcomed the cool breeze as they entered Albertsons.

"And that's a reason to laugh at him?" Elita sneered.

"No, but there's nothing we can do for him." Mikaela was too sleep-deprived to argue about this, so she reached for the quickest way out. "Look...we're not in a situation to worry about random people we don't know."

"Okay, mom, whatever. Let's go shopping."

Mikaela let Elita's response bounce off her instead of dig in. She shoved the cart forward into the health and beauty aisle to grab toothpaste. They had it on sale-- two for the price of one. She took two.

 _Take My Breath Away_ by Berlin came on over the store's speakers. Mikaela spent the days trying _not_ to think about how much she missed Optimus. That song made it impossible. She cracked and fobbed the cart off on Elita.

"I have to use the restroom."

"Mom?"

"My stomach's upset. Here's the shopping list. You shop. I'll find you when I come out."

Mikaela power-walked to the back of the store and charged into the ladies' single-user restroom. Clean peach walls and a fruity smell flooded her awareness. She locked the door, leaned against it and glared at her reflection in the mirror across the way.

Tears broke free despite her efforts not to cry. She clasped her hands behind her head and paced around, letting the emotional tsunami engulf her.

 _"_.... _watching every motion_  
_in this foolish lover's game_.  
_Haunted by the notion_ \-- _  
somewhere there's a love in flames_... _"_

Would she feel it if Optimus died out there? Or would she carry on with her life, oblivious that his ended?

Was he awake yet? Was he hurt? Was he scared?

Mercifully, the song on the radio ended and released her from the torrent of emotions. She used the toilet, washed all evidence of crying off her face and took three slow, deep breaths.

 _Okay, I can do this. I can DO this_...

The door creaked loudly on its hinges. Mikaela backed out while using her foot to stop it from slamming.

A shopping cart almost ran her down as soon as she emerged into the store again.

"Elita, I thought I told you to--" She faced the cart and faltered.

The man wore black mesh basketball shorts and a clean gray T-shirt with a crossed-out portrait of Donald Trump. Black block text underneath spelled, _He will not divide us_. A plain gold wedding band adorned his left ring finger. Unkempt brown hair and a scraggly beard concealed his features, but there was no disguising his large, haunted hazel eyes or boyish voice.

"Mikaela?"

Mikaela couldn't believe it. Of all the places, he was here. She cocked her head and smiled.

"Sam."

Sam chuckled. "You don't age at all, do you?"

"Not externally," she teased, "How's life?"

"I keep a low profile...but it's good. Carly's great. I'm a dad. My boy turned ten last week."

"Really? Is the fam shopping with you?"

"Heh, no. But-- hang on..."

Sam pulled out his I-phone and showed her the family photo on the lock screen. Christmas, judging by the red, green and white outfits. Carly had her blonde hair cut in a curly bob and Sam wore a slicked-back ponytail. Their mischievous son inherited Sam's eyes and Carly's blonde hair, which he styled into spikes.

"His name's Spencer, but everybody calls him Spike."

"Spike Witwicky...it has a nice ring to it." Mikaela grabbed her phone and sent Elita a text. "Hang on one sec. Let me get my disaster master to come here."

"How old is she now?"

"Twelve."

Nodding, Sam moved his cart out of the main foot traffic path. Mikaela noticed the black socket and silver pylon of a prosthetic left leg. She focused on her phone to avoid staring.

A minute later, Elita skidded up to them with half the shopping list's worth of stuff in the cart. "Hey, mom. Hey...person!"

"Hi." Sam's eyes twinkled. He grinned, his teeth vivid white against his dark beard. "Wow, her eyes are the same color as _his_."

"It's uncanny, isn't it?" Mikalela smiled with pride and wrapped her arm around Elita's shoulders. "Elita, this is Sam. Sam, this is Elita."

"He's _that_ Sam?" Elita wiped her ponytail off her shoulder and put on her best troublemaking smile. She extended her hand for a handshake. "Hi, Sam! Nice to meet you."

"Elita," Sam accepted her hand, "Thanks. You, too."

Watching them shake hands was like seeing the past and future collide.

"I saw your leg. That's cool." She squeezed his hand before letting go. "I hope you haven't had any accidents related to robots lately."

Mikaela groaned internally.

Sam glanced down and lifted his prosthetic leg. Mischief gleamed in his eyes.

"Car crash in Hong Kong. I don't tell people the part about giant robots causing it." He glanced at Mikaela, and she didn't miss the wryness in his smirk. "The good news is I haven't had any 'incidents' with robots since."

"Ouch. Here's hoping you stop being a magnet for trouble." Elita gave a little wink and salute. "I'm still shopping, so I'm gonna run. Nice meeting you, Sam."

"Same," he nodded.

She zoomed off towards the center aisle of the store, her brown flip-flop sandals clop-clopping with each footstep.

Heat pooled in Mikaela's cheeks. "Sorry. She's nosy and mouthy."

"She's a cute kid." Sam rested his elbows on the handle of his cart and lowered his voice, "How's Optimus?"

The nagging ache Mikaela thought she left in the restroom woke up again. This time, she battered it down.

"He's okay, hopefully."

"Hopefully?"

Three rowdy boys sprinted past. Their mother hollered at them in Spanish and they stopped to wait for her. Mikaela stayed silent until the family passed.

"He went after somebody in space."

Sam shook his head and picked at his fingernails. They were bitten to the quick. "The poor guy can't catch a break, can he?"

"Nope."

"Hm. How's 'Bee doing?"

"I don't know...I haven't seen him in a long time. I hope he's okay."

"And everybody else?"

Only two of original the five bots they met fifteen years ago were still alive. What a sobering thought.

She sighed. "We lost Ratchet."

"Aw, man, really?" His eyes widened. "What happened?"

"Murdered. Optimus found out when he saw Ratchet's head being melted down in a lab. The Wreckers are dead, too."

"Damn."

"Yeah. NEST disbanded after Chicago. Some of them went to a new organization, Cemetery Wind. That broke up into the Transformers Reaction Force."

She rubbed her nose, hesitating. "Sam, TRF comes after people with any connections to Cybertronians, and they make them disappear. El and I are on the run from them right now."

"Gotcha. I never saw you." Sam looked down at his prosthetic leg. "They arrested me last year. Lennox talked them into letting me go after I told them I lost contact with the Autobots after Chicago. They still don't know how I really lost my leg."

He rubbed a hand through his hair. The way he stared off into space was too reminiscent of how Optimus blanked out. Mikaela hurriedly switched gears.

"So, how are your parents?"

He snapped back to reality, blinking.

"They're-- uh-- they're great. They moved to Texas last year. Carly, Spike and I are flying out tonight to see them. Mom's having a milestone birthday on Wednesday. Dad's planning a huge party. I'm kinda thinking of moving out there permanently. The job market here sucks, so I hope I'll have better luck in a big city like Houston. Carly has connections there, so...yeah."

Sam's parents were prone to being over the top and it sounded like that hadn't changed. Mikaela tried not to think of how they turned angrily on her when she got pregnant with Elita. They never found out who her real father was.

"Oh, yeah. What're you trying to get into?"

"Prosthetics engineering. I designed this leg. The foot moves if I flex my thigh." Sam lifted his prosthetic foot off the ground and tilted it up and down. "I'm working on one that rotates the ankle and moves the toes around like a regular foot."

She raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Wow, that's cool."

A text lit his phone. He read the message and glanced up.

"Uh...sorry. Um, Carly's sending me last minute travel stuff to buy, so I need to split. She worries."

Mikaela understood exactly how that felt.

"I'll let you go." Her expression softened. "Nice seeing you, Sam."

"Yeah. Same here." Sam smiled, yet his eyes were forlorn. Or was that the way his face worked?

He spoke again when she turned to leave.

"Hey, Mikaela?"

"Hm?" She peered over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry...um..." He scratched his nose and ruffled his beard, "...for the way I left you at the cabin without saying anything. I panicked and made a dick of myself."

Regret pulsed down Mikaela's spine. _She_ was the one who fooled around behind his back. He offered his heart, and her actions broke it. Telling herself she tried and failed to put Optimus behind her didn't quell the guilt.

And she had to live with that for the rest of her life.

The teen girl Mikaela was when she loved Sam shone through her blue eyes. She faced him and reached out despite the lump in her throat. Sam's eyebrows tilted upward at the gesture. He came forward without hesitating. They embraced tightly.

"I'm sorry, too." Small, useless words, but she had to say them. She gave him a light squeeze. "Take care of yourself and your family, okay?"

"Yup." His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat to play it off. "Take care of yours, too."

"Will do."

They stepped apart, exchanged wan smiles and departed in opposite directions.

Mikaela resisted the urge to look back. Sam's apology opened a wound of her own foolishness that didn't need any more prodding. Moving forward was the only way to stop the bleeding, so she walked away. She felt his eyes on her until she ventured into the canned food aisle.

Elita careened forward and barely stopped the cart in time to avoid a noisy collision. "Oh, there you are." She held up a package of prunes. "I was about to run up to you with these."

"That's one way to kill a conversation." Mikaela swiped the package from her. "Put them back."

"Can we get some oranges? Please? They're on sale."

"Okay, get a bag."

The price total wasn't too outrageous. Mikaela paid with cash. Everything fit into four doubled-up plastic bags. Two for cans, one for the oranges and toothpaste, and one for Kotex pads and paper towels.

Summer waited outside the doors like an unwelcome brick wall. Elita returned the shopping cart to its station. Finally, she learned-- usually, she abandoned carts by the door.

"Christ is coming," cried the old man.

Elita paused. "Mom, lemme borrow five bucks?"

"Why?"

"Just...please?"

Sighing, Mikaela set her bag of canned goods down and pulled a five dollar bill from her pocket. Elita disappeared into the store with it. Moments later, she emerged, looked into the old man's eyes and handed him a large Aquafina bottle.

"Here. It's too hot to not have water."

"I can see Christ in your eyes," he said to her.

She cocked her head and replied, "Jesus loves you, too. He'll pick you up when it's time."

"And you." The man beamed, his old face wrinkling until his eyes squinted. He only had one front tooth. "I'll see you in Paradise."

Elita nodded once, smiled and brought Mikaela the change for her purchase. Sweat glistened on her cheekbones. Her plastic bag rattled when she picked it up. Behind her, the old man gulped from the water bottle.

"Everybody's treating that guy like a joke because he's got mental problems." An indignant frown wrinkled her brow. "Whoever laughs at him laughs at dad, too."

They passed the cart station. Mikaela glanced back at old man with new eyes.

Optimus appeared to babble nonsense whenever he muttered at his intrusive thoughts or talked himself out of a flashback. His nightmares made him appear psychotic or delusional, and he had zero memory of his 'sleepwalking' incidents. What would he look like to a stranger who didn't know his story?

"Be ready! The end is near! Make peace with God!" The old man's shouts faded into the distance.

Elita tied the handles of her grocery bag in a knot and swung it while she walked. Mikaela's phone buzzed. She transferred a bag to her left hand and found a text from Ultra Magnus.

**On my way to retrieve you. Watch the overpass.**

"Ultra Magnus is on his way." Mikaela pointed at the overpass.

"I hope he picked something cool."

Heat waves turned everything beyond the freeway overpass into a rippling mess. Mikaela squinted at something white gleaming in the distance. She recognized the truck's make by the locomotive-inspired hood and 'grinning' silver grill.

"Don't worry, he _did_. Here he comes!"

Elita almost dropped her bag. "Oh, my God! Is that a LoneStar?"

"Yup."

The glimmering International LoneStar hung a U-turn at the stoplight and pulled up to the curb. Autobot symbols still marked its mud flaps, and a small red one resided on the grill in place of a logo. The passenger door swung open, revealing warm wood finish paneling on the dashboard, tan cloth-covered seats and a silver Autobot symbol on the steering wheel.

Mikaela whistled her approval as she ducked through the open door and climbed across to the driver's seat. Ultra Magnus' interior had an amazing new car smell. Cool air wafted through the vents to keep the summer heat at bay. She set her grocery bag on the floor behind her seat and aimed an air vent at her face.

"Whoa, nice sleeper!" Elita said as she hopped in her seat and laid her bag between her feet.

"The mattress is memory foam, and the storage space underneath is still there." Ultra Magnus shut the passenger door and pulled away from the curb. "I have better shock absorbers, too. Can you tell?"

"Yeah." Elita buckled her seatbelt. "The road is a mess of alligator cracks, and I barely feel it."

Mikaela noticed the smoother ride, too. She grinned and wiped the sweat off her forehead.

They arrived back at the warehouse within half an hour. Elita rushed inside to open the main garage door and switch the air conditioner on. Mikaela carried all four grocery bags in since Elita forgot to grab hers.

Air brakes hissed when Ultra Magnus rolled through the garage door. A popping noise preceded metallic clicking. Silver hands swung forward and rested flat on the ground. Both sides of his hood wrapped around as his forearms. The sleeper roof split to become his shoulders. His undercarriage and rear fenders formed legs. He rose onto his legs once they took shape. Mikaela glimpsed his spinning transformation cog pulling everything towards his abdominal cavity. His front bumper and grill slid up his torso to be his chest plates. Finally, his head popped out of his back and did an unnerving _Exorcist_ spin as it flipped up and anchored itself between his shoulders.

Ultra Magnus' elaborate Cybertronian and Rustian engravings stayed in exactly the same places as they were before. He 'wore' his mud flaps like a breechcloth. Bits of grill replaced the windshields on his oblong chest plates, which fit more snugly against his torso. Tires constructed parts of his shoulders, hips and calves. His flat ear finials had slightly wider antennae than before. The Mohawk ridge atop his helm formed a diamond shape above his brow instead of an oval.

Prominent white brow ridges replaced the plain silver ones he used to have. His rectangular nose came straight down his face like it did before, but now it had a vertical groove in the center. Layered V-shaped plates bridged the space between his nose and helm. His mouth plates remained as three segmented panels that behaved a lot like human lips, and the white strip on his chin resembled a soul patch.

"Well?" Ultra Magnus spread his hands. His V-shaped plates behaved exactly like human cheekbones.

"You look so..." Elita grinned mischievously, "Capaldi!"

He arched a brow. "Uh..."

Mikaela decided to help the poor guy out. "You've got eyebrows like Peter Capaldi."

"Perhaps I should Google him." Ultra Magnus blinked. "Oh." He laughed and slapped his hand against his brow. "The resemblance is completely unintentional."

"It's the perfect look for you." Elita giggled, covering her mouth. She scrounged up her grocery bag, dug her thumbnail into an orange and picked at the peel.

Ultra Magnus chuckled and sat down in the northwest corner. Sunlight shone on him through the window. "My joints are much smoother, too."

Elita teased, "You're old, that's why new armor feels better."

He scrunched up his face. "I'm _only_ twice Ironhide's age!"

She tossed her orange up and down. "Ironhide was a billion years old! Therefore, you're old!"

"I don't gauge myself by _your_ numerical standards, you uppity human."

Ultra Magnus swiped the orange out of mid-air. It looked like a marble clasped delicately between his thumb and index finger. The inner surfaces of his fingers were the embossed stainless steel that became his toolbox lid and cab entry step. Very non-slip. That orange wasn't going anywhere until he wanted it to.

"Hey!" Elita grabbed for the orange, but he held it just beyond her reach.

"Cybertonians get old when we fall into disrepair..." Half his mouth tilted upward in a smirk, "...so you don't get to call me _old_ until I'm rusty and creaky."

With that, he dropped the orange. Elita gasped and scrambled to catch it.

"Okay, you're not old." She got the peel off her orange and popped a slice in her mouth, grinning. "You're ancient."

"Argh! Honestly, Elita..."

Mikaela hid in the bathroom so they wouldn't hear her crack up.

.o

An uneventful week passed. As boring as it was, Mikaela and Elita agreed that boredom beat being interrogated or imprisoned by people who wanted all Cybertronians gone.

Ultra Magnus took long drives around town to scout for signs of TRF in Tranquility. His trips fortified the illusion of a bigrig heading out for deliveries. He never returned via the exact same route more than twice.

Mikaela and Elita tagged along one late evening to break up the warehouse monotony. Ultra Magnus followed Mikaela's directions to an industrial back alley between factory buildings.

She got out with Elita trailing behind. They stood side by side on the damp asphalt. Steamy wet pavement, oil and cardboard smells surrounded them.

Her mind flashed back to a gleaming Peterbilt 379 emerging through a white cloud of steam and transforming into a twenty-eight foot tall red, blue and silver robot in front of her eyes. She remembered how the robot studied her face before focusing his attention on Sam. And then, that _voice_...

_"Are you Samuel James Witwicky, descendant of Archibald Witwicky?"_

"Mom?" Elita accidentally spoiled the recollection.

Mikaela blinked as if emerging from a dream. "This is where Sam and I met Optimus and the Autobots. Seems like a million years ago, now."

"Did dad scare you the first time you saw him?"

"They all did, sorta. It's not every day you see a bunch of vehicles turn into robots."

Elita scuffed her shoe on the pavement. "Dad says I wasn't scared when I first saw him."

"You weren't." Mikaela ran a hand through her hair and smiled, ducking her head. "Two seconds after you were born, you grabbed his finger and stared at him like you already knew everything about him."

"Dad said his life never felt the same after that."

Turning, Mikaela gazed into Elita's eyes. They glimmered like smooth river stones in the dim light. Sometimes she couldn't believe the tiny baby she gave birth to had entered the twilight years between childhood and adulthood.

"I know exactly how he feels," she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind Elita's ear. "I love you, kiddo."

Elita's serious features melted into a smile. "Love you, too, mom."

Mikaela pulled her in for a hug and a playful noogie. "Hey, Mags, can we swing by one more spot before we go in for the night?"

Ultra Magnus rocked on his wheels. "Of course. Which way?"

"East."

Thirty minutes later, Mikaela peered out at a park surrounded by Leyland Cyprus trees. The playground had swings, slides and a jungle gym. Rows of plastic picnic tables gave parents a place to roost while their kids played.

It looked so different, yet one thing remained the same.

Mikaela took her sandals off and climbed out into the night. Cool, soft grass caressed her feet. She closed her eyes, and for a few seconds she imagined Optimus' porcelain-smooth armor pressed against her cheek.

_"Wow."_

_"Wow?"_

_"You're so warm. I...thought you'd be-- ah-- cold."_

_"I raised my surface temperature to one hundred-point-five degrees Fahrenheit for your comfort. Am I too hot for you?"_

Footsteps rustled the grass. Mikaela hurriedly wiped away the tears in the corners of her eyes and faced their source.

"Elita, you're standing on _the_ spot."

Elita cocked her head, her impatient expression softening. "Where you and dad first danced?"

Nodding, Mikaela smoothed her daughter's hair. "Everything started here. He asked me to dance. I said yes."

A cool breeze rustled the grass and trees. Elita grinned as she plopped onto her back. Her amusement was short lived, however. She sat up slowly, her eyes riveted on the western sky.

"Mom? Mags? Do you see that?"

"I was waiting for you to notice," Ultra Magnus replied.

"See what?" Mikaela followed Elita's gaze. Her blood ran cold.

There were two crescent moons.


	2. In Media Res

**Stories Tell Us**

Part II: _In Media Res_

.o

.o

The ride back to the warehouse was _interesting_.

Crescent Cybertron's honeycombed surface and broken continents became visible to the naked eye. People stood in the streets with binoculars and their phones. Confusion spiced everyone's movements.

Somebody screamed, "It's Nibiru!"

"Shut up, you dumbass! Nibiru is red! Does that look red to you?"

"Whoa!" Ultra Magnus slammed on his brakes.

Mikaela caught the steering wheel and reflexively flung her right arm sideways to catch Elita.

Ultra Magnus' headlights illuminated the old man from Albertsons limping across the street towards MacDonald's. He carried a huge cardboard sign. _JESUS IS NEAR_ was written across it in block letters formed via reflective tape.

"Be ready! Jesus is coming!"

"Thanks for the heads up!" Elita shouted through the open passenger's side window, "But be careful, mister! You'll get hit by cars doing that!"

The old man nodded. "I'll pray for you!"

Mikaela tapped Elita's arm. "El, enough."

Horns blared behind them. Ultra Magnus resumed their original path with a loud pop-hiss. People in the vehicle behind them cussed and hurled trash at the old man.

"Stupid jerks." Elita muttered.

Cybertron blocked out a quarter of the northwestern horizon by the time they sequestered themselves in the warehouse. They kept the lights off and watched through the open garage doors. The scintillating planet was a looming sideways grin slipping beyond view.

A perpetual high tide arrived early thanks to Cybertron's gravity bulging the oceans. Mikaela counted herself lucky she wasn't among the stargazers getting soaked on the beach, but she had no idea the rising water foretold something worse.

Huge chunks of the internet went down. Many GPS devices failed. Cell phones had spotty reception. The International Space Station and Hubble Space Telescope went dark. All of this happened thirty minutes after world leaders broadcast a _prepare your butts, the world might be ending_ message to their respective countries.

People skipped town like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Troublemakers looted abandoned property and stores. Traffic clogged the exits. Tempers boiled over. Fights broke out. Sirens howled their discordant rage. Tranquility provided a micro-sample of the world at large.

Ultra Magnus accessed communication frequencies left behind by Sector Seven. The government didn't know about it, but the Autobots did. It wasn't perfect and he had to struggle through a lot of feedback noise, but he persisted in listening.

"Cybertron's advance has stopped. The planet is in pieces, and several of them are in contact with the Earth's surface. Europe and Asia took direct hits. Part of Africa may be hit, too. The reports are conflicting."

"Any in America?" asked Elita.

"No. That is definite. The North American continent is untouched. The areas impacted the hardest are experiencing extreme geological disturbances."

He paused, relaying more information as he heard it. "I _can_ reassure you that Cybertron isn't going to rip the Earth apart, but its proximity is affecting the whole globe. It will take many hours for those effects to propagate all the way around to our location. You're already seeing one-- the high tide."

"What effects are we looking at?" Mikaela asked, knowing she would regret it.

"Earthquakes, tsunamis, avalanches, volcanic eruptions, landslides, mudslides, glacier displacement-- take your pick." Ultra Magnus lowered his gaze and pressed a hand over his chest. "Countless lives are already lost, and many more will follow."

That wasn't the most reassuring news Mikaela received in her lifetime. Still, given the circumstances, she considered 'Earth will not explode in three minutes' a _good_ thing.

Cybertronian com-line chatter burst through. Ultra Magnus extended the antennae atop his ear finials to strengthen the signal. Distorted voices shouted at each other.

"Just a moment...I'm hearing--" His grim tone shifted to relief. "Confirmed. Optimus is alive."

Elita, who was pacing impatiently, almost dropped her phone.

"For sure?"

He nodded. "One-hundred percent confirmed. He was sighted entering Earth's atmosphere and diving into the ocean. _Diving_ , not falling."

"Oh, my God," Mikaela exhaled properly for the first time in too many days. "Any info on how he's doing?"

Elita butted in, "Why did he dive in the ocean?"

"No. I'm sorry, I don't have those answers. Communications are extremely spotty. I suspect Optimus is the reason Cybertron isn't advancing any closer."

He peered down at them, his optics narrowed shrewdly. "A word of advice? Catch some sleep. We may have to abandon this location in the morning. Pack your belongings just in case an evacuation is ordered."

"It's barely ten o'clock!" Elita protested.

"Yes." Ultra Magnus regarded her, "And I understand excitement makes achieving sleep difficult. You will need all the rest you can get if tomorrow requires a lot of activity."

She sighed and relented. "You have a point."

Both Elita and Mikaela packed everything except tomorrow's clothing and retreated to the modular office.

Mikaela closed the door to muffle outside noises. The independent air conditioning unit kept the tiny space cold, so no waking up drenched with sweat. Elita was already half-buried inside her sleeping bag.

Sirens rang in the distance. Mikaela wriggled into her sleeping bag and sighed.

"I wonder what dad is doing," Elita whispered.

"Saving the world."

"I hope he's okay."

"Me, too."

Neither said anything more. Both slept in spurts while Ultra Magnus kept watch by the windows.

.o

Mikaela and Elita awoke before dawn. Neither slept well. Yawning almost became a competitive sport. They devoured two delicious strawberry Nutri-Grain bars and took turns using the shower.

Elita exited the bathroom wearing her studded jean shorts, a black tank top and a plaid blue, violet and black button down shirt tied around her waist. She brushed her wet hair in several quick swipes, separated it in half and styled it into two pigtails secured by clear hair bands. Then she sat on the floor and pulled on her silver sequined Converse sneakers with glittery multicolored laces. They were the tackiest shoes Mikaela ever laid eyes on, and she knew Elita bought them specifically to annoy her.

 _This is how karma gets me back for wearing booty shorts to piss off my mom_ , Mikaela thought as she closed the bathroom door.

Luxuriating in a hot shower chased her grogginess away. She was glad she brought her whole bag into the bathroom with her; Elita almost forgot to pack the deodorant.

Moments later, Mikaela wore a tight red halter strap top under a diaphanous red and pink rose print singlet. She zipped up her favorite faded skinny jeans, which had holes worn into the knees. Comfortable brown block heel ankle boots finished off her look.

The sky outside the windows turned pale. Mikaela watched it brighten while she brushed her teeth. She ran a hairbrush through her wet hair, tied it back with a red hair band and used three pink ones down the length to create a bubble ponytail. Lazier than braiding it, but just as effective.

Elita tapped the bathroom door. "Mom, are you decent?"

"Yeah."

She shoved her way in. Cooler air from the warehouse followed.

"Mags is recharging."

"And?"

"He's on pins and needles, mom. Let's be as quiet as we can for him."

Mikaela peeked over Elita's shoulder. Ultra Magnus slumped against the northwest wall next to the tow truck. His visor covered his optics, which gave him the appearance of wearing black Oakley Razor Blade sunglasses.

There went her plans to pick up their trash. Unlike Optimus, Ultra Magnus woke up if somebody made loud enough noise near him and he struggled to power back down after being disturbed. Having the widest hearing frequency range in the Autobot army had its downsides.

Mikaela hooked a finger through her belt loop and leaned on the bathroom doorframe. "Okay, so what are we going to do?"

Elita raised her eyebrows mischievously. She pointed up with her thumb. "Let's go up on the roof and laugh at the dorks stuck in their cars."

"This should be g--"

Ultra Magnus retracted his visor and jumped to his feet like a startled feline. Every inch of him tensed. His audio covers spun, locking on to something only he heard.

"Never mind," muttered Mikaela, "He's awake."

Elita pursed her lips. "Whoops. Mags, did we wake you up?"

"No."

He laid the vehicle lift system columns down one by one. No explanation, just action.

Shrugging, Mikaela went ahead and scooped up their trash. She dumped it in a plastic Albertson's bag and knotted the handles together to seal it. Elita playfully crackled a noisy cellophane candy wrapper. Ultra Magnus' left optic twitched.

"Elita, stop it!"

"Aw, what's wrong?" she teased.

"I'm performing very delicate calculations. I need to focus."

"Uh...sorry." She stopped crackling the wrapper. "What's going on?"

His brow ridges settled in a line. "Let me finish my calculations, first."

Elita turned away, rolling her eyes. Mikaela crossed her arms, waiting. Ultra Magnus wrung his hands and scanned warehouse with his optics. He tapped the metal shelf near the tow truck. The grating caved in. That vexed him. He approached the heavy duty wooden workbench and slapped it thrice with his palm. Pinging thuds resonated through the warehouse, but the workbench stayed undamaged.

Elita jumped at the noise. "Dude! What are you doing?"

"Locating adequate shelter." His expression remained inscrutable. Like Optimus, he had an excellent poker face. Sometimes, he wore it at the worst times.

Mikaela couldn't stand the weirdness any longer. "C'mon, Mags, stop the cryptic bullshit. What's going on?"

Ultra Magnus swung his optics to the left and squinted. "We are about to have a major earthquake. Gather your belongings and get under this workbench. The surface waves will arrive in two minutes and thirty seconds."

Nodding, Elita darted away. Mikaela tossed their trash bag into the bin behind the restroom door. Earthquakes weren't new to her. Hell, they were a staple of California.

"I got our stuff." Elita dragged their duffle bags beneath the workbench with her. "Mags, how do you _hear_ an earthquake?"

"The same way you hear a crunch when somebody breaks a twig."

Ultra Magnus crouched on all fours next to the workbench. Mikaela bit back a rude laugh. Earthquake newbies were hilarious to watch.

She sensed motion and pressure, like an elevator settling at a chosen floor. The metal warehouse frame squeaked. Light fixtures wobbled.

"Ooh," Elita gasped. "Mom, do you feel that?"

"Yeah, El." Mikaela fixed her eyes on Ultra Magnus' optics. "Chill out, Mags. This is no big deal."

He scowled. "It is a very big deal!"

"It's California. It shakes. It'll jiggle and jolt for a few seconds and stop."

"No, not this one."

Low rumbling rolled from northwest to southeast. The floor swayed gently and swiftly. Vibrations creaked the warehouse walls. Light fixtures swung bigger arcs. Hung up hubcaps quivered on their hooks. The garage doors and windows shook as if a low-flying helicopter passed overhead.

"Oh, what?" Mikaela raised a brow. "Is the San Andreas fault slipping?"

Typical wimpy California tremors always petered out here. This one slowed and widened enough to rock the tow truck on its wheels.

"Worse." Ultra Magnus' mouth plates tightened. "This is the Cascadia subduction zone earthquake your country's northwest coast has feared for centuries. It is going to be at least, at _least_ , a magnitude nine when the surface waves reach us."

Mikaela's flippant attitude evaporated. He wasn't overreacting after all.

"Shit!" She ducked past his forearm and scooted under the workbench with Elita. The chilly floor reminded her of the cabin basement.

Elita clutched a leg of the workbench. "Mom, I'm scared."

"We'll be okay, El," Mikaela faked a calm smile.

That used to work on eight year old Elita. Twelve year old Elita wised up to it.

"As if, mom!" She flicked her braids behind her shoulders. "That's the kind of 'we'll be okay' the internally freaking out adults say to stop kids from freaking out with them!"

Ultra Magnus hunched lower to peer under the workbench. His body wavered back and forth with the trembling floor. "Your safety is one hundred percent guaranteed if you stay under the workbench. Is that more reassuring?"

Elita wiped her nose and nodded.

He glanced to his left again. His optics were wide and shifty. "Surface waves in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Incoming!"

Loud booms slammed towards the warehouse. A dizzying buzz vibrated Mikaela's skull and her ears tightened from a sound too high pitched to perceive. Ultra Magnus' optics narrowed and brightened. He lifted both hands off the floor. Time suspended itself on a single dust mote illuminated by his pupils. Elita's eyes widened and she reached to her right, her fingers outstretched. Mikaela inhaled, watching the dust mote drift upward while inevitability struck the front of the warehouse.

Everything heaved sideways as if a nuclear bomb went off. The huge front windows crackled and shattered. Glass sprayed everywhere. Both garage doors rat-tat-tatted a deathly clamor. Ceiling tiles plunged in a dusty rain. Four light fixtures bashed themselves apart on the floor.

"Damn!" Mikaela exhaled and seized the leg of the workbench.

Ultra Magnus clutched his audios and tipped forward, his head clunking on the cement. "Argh!"

"Oh, my God!" Elita clung to her duffle bag as the earthquake whipped her to and fro.

Another ominous roar approached. The ground sank and lurched three feet in all directions. Mikaela no longer knew backwards from upwards or sideways. _Down_ lost its meaning.

Two ceiling fans plunged. One crushed the tow truck's windshield, the other bounced at the workbench. Elita screamed. Ultra Magnus lunged and slapped the fan away at the last second. It whirled into the swaying spiral staircase instead. His efforts were rewarded by the cabinet spilling its contents on his head. A few hubcaps followed.

"Slag!" He snarled, throwing the hubcaps, tool belts and rags aside. "This is awful!"

A thin crack formed near his knees, and Mikaela remembered her childhood fear of quakes opening bottomless pits. She held the strap of her duffle bag in a white-knuckle grip while the world rocked and rolled around her. _Don't let that crack grow, don't let that crack grow_...

A strong jolt hurled the wall at her back. Her throat clutched. She yelped. For a heart-stopping second she thought she plummeted into the imagined pit. Something halted her tumble and shoved her backwards.

"Stay under the bench!" Ultra Magnus shouted at her.

"I fell!" She yelled back between gasps. "El! Are you okay?"

"No." Elita sobbed, pressing both hands over her ears.

The tow truck swayed and squeaked. Strained joints creaked. Anything hanging freely swung in violent circles. Dust formed a chalky, musty-smelling haze. The shelves across the room wobbled until they crumpled. Their occupants crashed to the floor.

"I can't, I can't...get me out of here!" Elita uncurled and bolted towards Ultra Magnus.

"No, El!" Mikaela grabbed the shirt tied around Elita's waist.

"Elita! Stay put!" Ultra Magnus blocked her in with his forearm.

" ** _LET ME GO!_** " Elita pounded her fists against his armor. Her shouting dissolved to wordless bawling. Adrenaline had taken over. She was beyond rational thought or reason.

Something shattered on the bench. Elita shrieked and covered her head, which let Mikaela yank her backwards.

"Window fr-- _OOF!_ "

Ultra Magnus' optics went dark. His body convulsed and his left arm extended in a humanlike fencing response. The light fixture that struck his neck toppled across his back. He collapsed face-first on the fallen window frame with a sickening crunch.

"He's dead! No, no, no!" Elita wailed.

"No, he isn't! Hey!" Mikaela grabbed Elita's shoulders and forced calm into her voice. "Listen! A light fixture hit a neural cluster in his neck. He'll wake up in a minute."

" ** _MAGS!_** "

"Shh, he's okay." Mikaela helped her counter-sway against the earthquake. "We're all okay. Shh, sweetie, we're okay..."

"No! Stop it! **_Stop it!_** " Elita screamed, her wild eyes unfocused. Words flew out of her mouth in ragged spurts. "Oh, my God, help me! Make it stop!"

The world roared again. Nothing else fell because everything doomed to fall already did. There was only the groaning warehouse frame, the clanging garage doors, various noises outside and the bucking floor. Ultra Magnus lay amidst it, insensate.

" ** _MOMMY!_** "

Elita's pale face and terrified screams were heart-wrenching. Tears stung Mikaela's eyes. She pressed her knees onto the ground, trying with all her might to stop the earthquake causing Elita's fear. Illogical, but the overwhelming instinct to comfort her daughter took over.

"I've got you, El. I'm here, sweetie. We're fine. Shhh, we're fine."

They held onto each other through another rolling lurch. The surrounding cacophony lessened and the heaving shrank to a disorienting sway. Swaying gave way to tilting, then stillness.

Distant car alarms blared. Dogs barked. Confused crows cawed. Random creaks, squeaks and rustles sounded as shaken items settled. Hot metal smells emanated off the warehouse walls. Faint gasoline fumes and sawdust scents drifted on the breeze. Dust coated the ground.

Mikaela didn't know whether the swinging sensation came from the earth or her trembling muscles. Elita's fingernails dug into her shoulders. She cried so hard she wheezed and coughed.

"Everything-- shook-- so-- hard-- mom!"

"I know. It was scary. Shhh." Mikaela squeezed her daughter tight against her chest. Her pounding heart probably gave away how scared she was, but she stayed focused on mirroring the calm she wanted to impart. "We're okay, sweetie. Breathe. C'mon, deep breaths, real slow. That's it."

Ultra Magnus groaned and squirmed aimlessly like a turtle flipped on its back. Silver nanite fluid dribbled across his face. He butted his head against the floor and slumped onto his side.

"El, I need to check on Mags. Stay under the bench."

"Mom!"

Mikaela kissed Elita's quivering hands. "I promise I'll be right back. I need to make sure he's okay. You're a brave kid, you got this."

"O-okay." Elita nodded, her face wet with tears. She hugged herself and curled up around the duffle bags.

Ultra Magnus twitched. A six inch long glass shard wedged itself in the top of his left optic socket. His metal eyelids clamped shut around it, a protective reflex to keep it from damaging the delicate servomechanisms. Nanite goop gave it a silver sheen. Not something anybody wanted on their bare skin.

Mikaela frisked the fallen tool belts for pliers, but found none. She settled on covering her hands with the cotton dust rags instead.

"Sorry, Mags, this is going to suck for you."

Mikaela used her foot to force his upper eyelid open, grasped the shard and yanked. It came away easily. She stumbled back, dropping the shard and rags in a puddle of silver nanite goop. The grimy white cloth and the dirt smudges on the glass dissolved like cotton candy in water. Nanites didn't play around.

She leapt backwards when Ultra Magnus rolled onto his stomach. His left optic snapped shut. Scrape-clunks reverberated through the warehouse as he butted his head on the floor again.

"Mmh..." A shudder ran through him. He planted his hands flat on the cement.

"Mags?" Mikaela hedged, "You with me?"

"Yes. Ouch." Ultra Magnus sneered, covered his wounded optic with one hand and cupped the back of his neck in his other palm. "What hit me?"

"Light fixture. Are you okay?"

"Other than being shaken up and almost losing an optic? Fine."

Mikaela rejoined Elita, who hadn't budged from their hiding place. Elita latched onto her like a terrified koala. She sniffed, turned her head to look at Ultra Magnus and immediately buried her face in Mikaela's shoulder again.

"You made it through your first earthquake, kiddo." Mikaela rubbed her daughter's back.

"It sucked." Elita croaked. She dried her blotchy red face with the corner of the shirt tied around her waist. "How's your eye, Mags?"

Ultra Magnus bent closer to her. A hairline crack ran vertically across the glass covering his mechanical pupil. His wounded optic wasn't as bright as the other one.

"Scratched, but it functions."

"Ooh," Mikaela cringed. "I didn't see the scratch."

"I can. It hurts."

Pain rarely paralyzed Cybertronians unless the damage impeded movement. He stood upright and took two steps away before shaking himself like a sleepy bear. Glass, bits of ceiling tiles and other debris rattled to the floor.

Power lines zap-popped outside. One by one, the howling car alarms quieted. Dogs continued barking.

"My chronometer kept running while I was-- wow. The earthquake shook for exactly five minutes and forty-six seconds."

And the disaster had more to come. Hell, this wasn't the worst part of it. Mikaela steeled herself for what lay ahead.

"We have to go." She rubbed Elita's back while she collected herself. "There's a tsunami on the way, same as Japan. Tranquility is barely above sea level."

"I think I-- yes, I hear it. Incredible. It is still quite a ways to our northwest. We have thirty minutes to evacuate." Ultra Magnus backed towards the main garage doors. "I'm going to clear away the power lines. Remain here until I retrieve you."

He knelt to raise one of the metal doors and jogged through.

Mikaela opened her bag enough to pull out a water bottle. Ripples formed in the water because of her shaking hands. She drank generously and passed it to Elita, who also took a gulp.

Ultra Magnus returned after Mikaela put the bottle away. Glass crunched into powder beneath his feet. He bent and thrust his hand under the table. "Let's roll out."

Elita crawled onto his palm first. Mikaela was close behind with their bags. He deposited them on his shoulders and walked out slowly to avoid threatening their precarious equilibrium.

Knotted power lines were wrapped around the utility poles like tetherball strings. Mikaela chuckled at the absurdity of it.

"Did you get zapped doing that?"

"Four times." His left optic twitched shut in the sunlight. "It was tingly."

Elita gasped, "Mom, look at the warehouse."

The lighted signage frame attached to the warehouse lay in pieces on the asphalt. Ultra Magnus nudged the busted sign aside with his feet. His movements didn't do Mikaela's vertigo any favors.

Elita pursed her lips and looked around, her face going pale. Mikaela gazed downward at her feet. Cold emptiness cracked open inside her. Her hometown was in shambles. She didn't _want_ to see the destruction, so she stared at the metal siding, dirt and dust littering the warehouse parking lot.

Ultra Magnus said, "I'm going to transform. Keep your arms and legs close to your bodies."

Clicks and clanks sounded as he transformed around them. His shoulders withdrew when his cab appeared. Mikaela and Elita ended up sitting on his sleeper mattress with their bags on their laps. They hurriedly stuffed their belongings into the compartment under the mattress.

Surrounding buildings were damaged, but structurally intact. Most of the debris was roof shingles, fallen signs, broken windows, loose items that fell, tipped-over trash cans and downed power lines.

"Get in your seat and buckle up," said Mikaela.

"Wow," Elita slid into the passenger's seat and pressed her nose to the window.

"El, buckle up!"

She did.

Mikaela got in the cushy driver's seat and snapped her seat belt into place. Ultra Magnus faced due west. The ocean's glimmering blue line stretched across the horizon. Why did something so captivatingly beautiful cause such chaos? She narrowed her eyes and looked away.

"Traffic is still backed up on the main highways. I discovered an old access road during my patrols. GPS doesn't list it. It will take us out of town."

"I know that road. It's higher ground. Go for it," said Mikaela.

Ultra Magnus' engine clattered to life. Glass crinkled under his tires. He circled behind the warehouse and used the east alleyway exit to access the main street.

Police helicopters buzzed by. They broadcast a tsunami warning over their loudspeakers.

"Attention, attention! A deadly tsunami is headed this way. Get to higher ground within the next thirty minutes! This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."

Mikaela dared to peer out the window. Tranquility looked like a ghost town. Buildings were dark. A busted water main flooded the sidewalk on a residential street. Trash, glass, wooden boards, pieces of sheet metal and other unidentifiable detritus lay everywhere.

They crossed a bridge over the river. The normally full riverbed was a muddy trickle flowing the wrong way.

Straggling vehicles sparkled far in the distance. Ultra Magnus passed Albertsons. Its shattered front entrance and empty parking lot offered sad sights in the bright sunlight. Most of the storefronts were damaged, but intact.

Ultra Magnus hung a right through the intersection. Someone's clothes lay piled up in the gutter by the bus stop. A ratty brown coat, a pair of green sweatpants and scuffed army boots.

"That's a person!" Elita pointed. "Mags, we need to stop!"

"El! We can't afford to stop here!"

"Yes, we can," Ultra Magnus interjected. "You have three minutes to spare. No more than that."

"Okay."

Elita unbuckled and jumped out as soon as Ultra Magnus stopped.

Mikaela recognized the old man from Albertsons the moment she saw the wispy white hair. The upper half of his body rested supine on the sidewalk and his splayed legs resembled a ballet dancer mid-leap. He was sickly pale, almost gray. His wrinkled mouth and brown eyes were wide open.

Elita knelt by the man's head and touched his neck with two fingers. Her lower lip quivered.

"He's dead, but he's still warm!" She slapped the sidewalk. "Somebody hit him with their car and left him here to die! What kind of person does that?"

"A shitty one." Mikaela bowed her head and sighed.

"Two minutes," said Ultra Magnus.

"Hold your horses!" Elita snapped as she patted the old man's pockets. She found a small leather coin purse in his left coat pocket. It held a wooden rosary, a yellowed newspaper clipping and two dog tags.

Elita placed the rosary gingerly in the old man's hand and broke one of his dog tags off the chain. The remaining dog tag got placed back inside the coin purse, which she tucked into his coat pocket. She kept the newspaper clipping and dog tag when she straightened.

"Sorry, mister."

Mikaela didn't know what to say, so she stepped back towards Ultra Magnus. "C'mon, El...let's go."

They hurried into the truck and buckled their seat belts. Air brakes hissed as Ultra Magnus lurched away from the curb. He accelerated unnaturally fast. Mikaela's vertigo spun in protest.

"His name was Seth Taggart." Elita wiped her eyes. "He was in the Army and he was Catholic."

She skimmed the newspaper clipping.

"He came back from the Vietnam war to find three men robbing his home. They shot his wife, his three year old son and tried to shoot him. He scared them away. The paramedics didn't get there in time to save his family. He watched his best friend die bleeding in a trench in Vietnam, and he came home to watch his family die bleeding on his kitchen floor."

"How awful." Ultra Magnus bumped over railroad tracks.

Elita chewed on her thumbnail.

"Jesus took him home to them." She crumpled the newspaper clipping in her hand and turned her head away, sniffling. "He was sick, and society threw him away. He fought for our country, he came home with PTSD, he watched his support system die and I'm the only person who cares enough to cry about him! I _hate_ people!"

She slammed her fist against the passenger side door, gasped and immediately recoiled, "Sorry, Mags."

He chuckled. "A human fist can't hurt me."

"Do either of you care about what happened to Seth?"

"Of course I do! But I didn't know the guy." Mikaela sighed. "It sucks that he's dead."

Ultra Magnus avoided an abandoned bicycle lying in the street.

"Elita, this is something soldiers understand. Seth was a soldier. Soldiers endure the horrors of war so the generations after don't have to. Death is one of those horrors. It is sad, it is terrible and it is painful." His voice softened into somberness, "But you learn to harden yourself to the sight of death."

Elita sniffed contemptuously. "Even when it's family or a friend?"

" _Especially_ when it's family or a friend." He swerved around an oil slick. "War ends for those who die, and war continues for those who live. Those who live fight to prevent more deaths. We charge onward into battle, and we let our actions be judged accordingly by history. The rest is silence."

For a minute, the only sound was a faint engine rumble and air swooshing past the windows. They passed a church surrounded by cypress trees. Its bell lay atop debris piled in the parking lot. The cross topping the steeple pointed East.

Elita closed her fist around Seth's dog tag. She stuffed it into her pocket along with the crumpled bit of newspaper.

"It's not fair."

"War never is."

"Tch! You can say that again, Mags."

They fell silent after that.

Mikaela noticed a salty beach smell on the wind. Sunlight shifted across her arms. Many freeway overpasses were cracked and precarious due to gridlock traffic.

Ultra Magnus headed due south underneath the only undamaged overpass.

Straight ahead, the town's twelve foot deep drainage ditch. Mikaela remembered how skaters hung around there to perfect their skateboard tricks, but nobody used it for travel. An old urban legend claimed the town's "crazy religious army vet" lived there and turned people into human sacrifices. Some said he used their skin for his bed.

"Time to go off-road," said Ultra Magnus.

Mikaela's blood froze. She squirmed in her seat for want of being anywhere but there.

"You're taking the ditch?"

"Trust me."

"But--"

"An urban legend is not a tsunami. This is the only way to reach the access road without using surface streets."

"There's an urban legend about this place?" Elita shot Mikaela a skeptical look.

"It's really stupid, and this is not the time!" Mikaela said back, her face going red. Somebody probably made it up about Seth anyway.

Ultra Magnus eased diagonally along the steep cement incline. He folded his side mirrors against his doors long enough to clear the narrow space under a footbridge.

The north wall of the ditch became a gentle waterfall. Beach smells filled the cab.

"Oh no!" Elita cried.

Mikaela grabbed the steering wheel. "Shit! It's early!"

"By one minute," Ultra Magnus kept his voice calm.

If that wasn't bad enough, mud filled the bottom of the ditch ahead. Ultra Magnus tried to accelerate over it, but he weighed too much to get across. He made it a good twenty feet before his tires stuck and spun fruitlessly.

"Slag! The mud is deeper than I calculated!"

White froth appeared in his rear view mirrors.

Elita shrieked frantically, "Go, Mags!"

His engine revved. He tried reverse. Nothing.

"I'm lodged! The mud is sucking my tires down."

A wall of oceanic fury surged towards them. Mikaela clenched her jaw. The brunt of the flood slammed against his rear tires and enveloped them. Seawater rose almost to his side windows. Trash bins, pieces of Styrofoam, somebody's mailbox and a yellow picnic table from the park spilled into the ditch. It looked like the parted Red Sea crashing back together in _The Ten Commandments_.

"Transforming is the only way I can get you out of here safely."

A helicopter's shadow crossed his shiny white hood.

"But the helicopters," Elita gestured upward.

"But your _lives!_ " Ultra Magnus answered. He rolled both passenger windows down, which brought in the roar of the tsunami and wind from the helicopters circling above. "Climb onto the roof of my sleeper. Do it before the water gets to my windows!"

Apprehension tightened the back of Mikaela's neck. She unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out first. Her face came inches from the waterfall pouring into the ditch. Goosebumps broke out on her skin despite the muggy morning air. She grabbed onto Ultra Magnus' smokestack and hauled herself up to his roof.

"Mom?" Elita yelled.

"Here!" Mikaela crawled for the passenger side window. The water hovered dangerously close to flooding into it. "Face in and grab the top of the window. Now sit on the bottom and grab my hand!"

She pulled Elita onto Ultra Magnus' roof. They separated, each clinging to his exhaust pipes.

Ultra Magnus' body clanked, vibrated and shifted. In moments he stood thighs-deep in the surging tsunami, and Mikaela had an unwanted panoramic view of her hometown being destroyed by it.

Torn-apart houses, vehicles, peoples' belongings and trash dotted the murk. Only sturdy concrete structures like the mall stayed intact against the onslaught.

Fire ignited an island of debris. Hungry orange flames found the leaking gasoline within seconds. Gasoline floated on water, so there was no controlling the fiery feeding frenzy. Foul-smelling smoke choked the northeastern sky and turned the sun cherry red. The inferno spread like an unchecked disease as the tsunami carried everything southeast.

"Wow. It's gone," whispered Elita. "It's just...it's gone."

People were trapped in their vehicles. Their plaintive screams tore across the carnage. Crying babies hurt the worst.

"Hang on," said Ultra Magnus.

He waded inexorably towards the far end of the ditch. Mud tried to trap his feet, but he shook himself free each time.

Two helicopters crossed overhead. One hovered, the other circled. Their propellers spun smoke everywhere and their chop-chop engines drowned out everything else.

Ultra Magnus ignored them in favor of reaching safety. Elita and Mikaela clung onto his smokestacks as he clawed his way out of the rapidly-filling ditch and followed the dirt road uphill. Walking, much smoother than rolling in a vehicle. A row of four Cyprus trees at the top offered cover from the punishing morning sun.

Only then did he look up towards the helicopters.

"I didn't want witnesses," he grumbled.

"What'cha mean by that?" asked Elita.

Ultra Magnus waved her question off and offered his hands. He knelt to deposit Mikaela and Elita on the grass by the road.

"I'll be back. Stay here." His voice sounded grim, yet determined.

"What are you doing?" Elita hugged herself.

Ultra Magnus faced the mayhem. "The right thing."

He hopped down the hill, slid into the water and waded towards the family huddled on top of their sinking SUV. The parents placed their twin babies on his left palm before climbing onto his right. He carried them to the flat rooftop of the mall.

Next, he went for the three college students trapped in a red van. Two women and a man. Mikaela realized they were Native Americans when she saw _Navajo Strong_ emblazoned on the man's white T-shirt.

The man curled up on his side and his limbs moved in uncoordinated writhing jerks. Ultra Magnus transferred the ladies to his shoulder and retrieved a heavy duty electric wheelchair from the sinking van. He eased the man to sit in it, beckoned the women onto his palm and stood there with the chair cradled on his other hand while they teamed up to strap the young man in.

One woman helped the man control his limbs while the other secured them with soft blue straps. Two thicker gray straps crisscrossed his chest and one more went across his waist.

Once secured, the man gazed at a screen mounted on the right arm of his wheelchair. Ultra Magnus' tense expression softened. He said something inaudible and carried the group to safety. Their bobbing van disappeared under the murk.

Another tsunami wave arrived. Surging water rose to Ultra Magnus' lower chest. He battled debris and strong currents to rescue every living person or pet he could grab. The mall rooftop was crowded by the time he finished.

The two copters above the hill veered away. Hissing, surging water once again dominated Mikaela's ears.

Ultra Magnus broke the rectangular signage off the mall's exterior and used it like a paddle to herd the flames past the building.

Half a dozen rescue helicopters zoomed over Mikaela's and Elita's heads. They circled the area, taking turns dropping down to collect people off the rooftop using ropes, ladders and a huge metal basket for the guy in the wheelchair. News helicopters congregated at a higher altitude to follow the rescue effort.

Ultra Magnus squinted while their combined wind blasted his face, yet he remained steadfast. The water rose to his shoulders and flames encroached on his position. He struggled against the elements until the helicopters took the last three people away.

Then he disappeared under the murky inferno. Froth poured around the empty mall rooftop like an enraged river rapid. The signage he used for a paddle drifted away with the rest of the debris.

Mikaela coughed and cupped her hands over her nose and mouth. A lump burned in her throat. Ultra Magnus did what she wanted to and couldn't. And Elita recorded the whole thing on her phone.

Traffic cleared fast as people further east went off-road to get away from the fire and tsunami. The overpasses sprang into motion. Flames and smoke totally obscured the northern horizon.

Ultra Magnus' head appeared above water several yards west of the hilltop. He executed three perfect breast strokes to reach what remained of the dirt road. Filthy seawater poured off his armor as he scaled the hill where Mikaela and Elita waited. He transformed into vehicle mode under the smoke's cover.

"Let's go."

Elita pocketed her phone. Mikaela followed her lead. She was surprised to find the truck interior perfectly dry. His armor and windows were covered in murky water spots and he had that fresh-off-the-beach smell.

"That was awesome!" Elita patted his dashboard.

"I saved everyone I could reach," said Ultra Magnus. He turned left to get on the main highway and fell in with the traffic fleeing town.

Mikaela swallowed past the lump in her throat. Adrenaline stopped surging through her blood, leaving her tired and trembling. Everything outside the vehicle she sat in seemed unreal.

Ultra Magnus' smooth voice cut across her growing inner storm.

"My condolences for your loss."

Mikaela snorted derisively. "It's a small town and you saved lives. You lost your planet, and you couldn't save your own people."

"The scale of my people's loss doesn't invalidate the pain of yours."

She clenched her fists until her nails dented her palms. Emotion rose towards her throat like magma.

He continued, "I understand your distress, and I sympathize."

Mikaela thought about the sadness in Optimus' optics on her prom night. She looked outside again. The losses didn't feel comparable at all.

"I'm fine," Mikaela murmured. A lie she told herself and everybody else to stay above her own turmoil.

"Mom--"

"Elita," Ultra Magnus hushed her.

Tranquility's flooded, burning remains faded into the distance and was gone. Mikaela comforted herself with the knowledge that they weren't the only survivors.

.o

Early morning gave way to midmorning. Traffic spread out along the highway headed east. Mikaela's eyes were peeled for black jeeps or any vehicles with people wearing military gear. She never saw any. The most logical explanation was TRF members got deployed to Europe.

Ultra Magnus broke away from the sparse traffic by heading south through Nevada. Open road let him put the pedal to the metal. He cruised along at over a hundred miles per hour. Everything outside his windows was a blur.

Mikaela half-listened to him explaining lesser-known facts about earthquakes to Elita.

"...seismologists call this boundary between the mantle and the crust 'the Moho', but its actual name is the Mohorovicic discontinuity. Discontinuities are areas where seismic waves change velocity or bounce off. It is approximately ten to sixty miles under the continental crust and three to six miles underneath the oceanic crust. Earthquakes ring it like a huge bell."

Elita finished carefully re-braiding her twin pigtails. "So you heard a huge ding when you heard today's earthquake coming?"

"Technically speaking, yes. The place where the hammer strikes the bell is the hypocenter. You want a deeper quake, because depth adds distance. You can stand on the epicenter and still be six miles away from a fault rupture six miles below the surface. Unfortunately, the one we had today was shallow, and the whole length of it ruptured. You don't have enough nuclear weapons to equate the energy release. It was incredible and terrible."

"So what's the verdict on how big it was?" Mikaela asked, more to disrupt their conversation than to get an answer.

But Ultra Magnus had one. "Nine point five."

"You're making that up!" Elita gasped.

He cruised around a bend. "Nope, but I used the Richter scale and may have estimated too high by a decimal point or two."

Mikaela wrinkled her nose at him picking up where he left off.

"Anyway, sitting on the epicenter isn't the only way to experience a strong earthquake. Seismic waves are enormous sound waves. Sound echoes and reverberates. In our case, many of the body waves bounced off the Moho and hit Tranquility."

His left blinker clicked. The steering wheel under Mikaela's hands moved accordingly.

"Being unlucky enough to live on a point where reflected seismic waves concentrate guarantees more shaking. The different resonance frequencies of the ground you live on and how tall the buildings are is another factor in how destructive quakes can be, but you said you already know about that."

"Yup. Covered it in school." Elita checked her phone and shut it off again. "Loose sediment amplifies everything. Bedrock is better. I guess Tranquility got the worst of both worlds."

Mikaela stared out at the brown desert landscape and hoped they dropped the subject. Their earthquake jabber carried on another few minutes before it finally piddled out.

"Is she all right?" Ultra Magnus murmured.

Elita smirked. "She's hangry."

"Hangry?"

"Hungry and angry."

"I can hear you," Mikaela snapped.

But they were right. Neither she nor Elita had eaten anything since before sunrise. Adrenaline comedowns could only hold off an appetite for so long.

It was almost one o'clock in the afternoon when Ultra Magnus entered the small town of Rachel. He dropped Elita and Mikaela off at a tiny motel called Little A'Le'Inn.

Nothing was as _middle of nowhere_ as the tiny collection of trailers dead ahead. Roads and mountains were their sole company.

The cute alien-themed place had a "crashed UFO" suspended from the crane of a white mining truck outside. Its identifying sign also boasted an interesting weather station that listed the temperature at one hundred and five degrees Fahrenheit.

Being mummified in heavy wool blankets seemed more comfortable than the desert's oppressive heat and anhydrous air. Mikaela swore it sucked the moisture straight out of her mouth. She instinctively grabbed the Blistex lip balm in her pocket and rubbed it on her lips.

Elita snapped a selfie next to the flying saucer and examined the ID4 time capsule buried in 1996.

"They're gonna open it in twenty-fifty," she remarked.

The motel's much cooler diner interior had little green alien themed everything. A row of blue stools lined a clean bar counter. Tables and chairs were arranged here and there. A pool table marked the center.

It seemed totally weird to eat a cold tuna sandwich like a major earthquake and tsunami never happened. Mikaela focused on satiating her ravenous hunger because it helped wipe out the horrendous images plaguing her thoughts.

Elita had a little more finesse about inhaling her World Famous Alien Burger, which was oblong-shaped instead of round, but she slurped loudly on her iced tea.

In the background, Fox News blathered about the earthquake and tsunami damage to coasts of Alaska, Washington, Oregon and California's coastlines. Vancouver Island, the Queen Charlotte islands and bits of British Columbia, Canada almost got wiped off the map.

Ultra Magnus guessed the earthquake right. The scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen stated, _9.5 earthquake strikes coast of North America_.

A Fox News Alert broke over _that_ report to mention an estimated seven point eight earthquake just struck Southern California. The Cascadia earthquake woke up the San Andreas fault.

And that was just the North American continent's problems. The destruction carried on southward into Mexico and beyond.

"Well, crap," Elita grumbled. "Mags was right. What a mess."

"Yeah." Mikaela finished destroying her food. She washed it down with pink lemonade and slammed the empty cup onto the tabletop.

Elita wiped her mouth after her last bite of Alien Burger.

"Mom, is it stupid to pretend it's not real and not want to think about it?"

"Probably not."

It _felt_ too unreal to be happening. Mikaela never anticipated a disaster like this striking in her lifetime, and she especially didn't consider having to account for another human life while dealing with it. Street smarts only got her so far. Where was she supposed to go from here?

They used the restroom and perused the gift shop to kill some time. Elita bought a cheap plastic flying saucer keychain and clipped it to her duffle bag zipper.

A text from Ultra Magnus sent them scampering into his cab.

"What's up?" asked Elita.

"Something important," he replied. "This is time delayed due to Cybertron's presence. Listen."

Rather than explain, he piped the signal through the radio speakers.

Optimus' soothing baritone voice sounded like salvation.

"At the heart of every legend, there is truth: a few brave souls unite to save the world. We can be heroes in our own lives, every one of us, if we only have the courage to try. Our fates were always intertwined, but now our worlds are joined as one.

"We need to repair our planets, work together, if we wish to survive. A dangerous secret is buried deep inside the Earth. There is more to this planet than meets the eye. I am Optimus Prime. Calling all Autobots... it is time to come _home_."

The message ended.

Mikaela's spirits lifted marginally. Finally, she had confirmation that Optimus was all right.

"I'm being pinged." Ultra Magnus' voice inched up. "It's earlier than I expected. We're going live."

The new voice was smoother with a noticeable Japanese accent.

"Autobots, transmit your coordinates if you are not able to reach ours, and we will arrive in a ship to collect you."

Elita leaned over to Mikaela, "That bot sounds just like Ishiro Serizawa in _Godzilla_."

"His name is Drift," said Ultra Magnus, "And you'll recognize which one he is as soon as you see him."

"Oh yeah? What's he look like?"

"Heh, heh, you have to wait and see. Does anyone need a bathroom break before we go?"

"Nope," Elita replied jovially.

"So, Mags, where to?" Mikaela asked.

Ultra Magnus amused tone indicated deliberate obtuseness. "A place to get picked up without a hassle. Entering will cause a small ruckus, but I can settle it."

His tires crackled on the gravel as he pulled away from the Little A'Le'Inn and turned south onto Highway 375, also known as Extraterrestrial Highway. Angry clouds hugged the mountainous horizon like sea foam clinging to rocks.

He gunned it along the highway and slowed to veer west onto an unmarked dirt road. Dust clouds trailed in his wake. The loose rockiness forced him to cut his speed in half.

Desolate brown vastness filled Mikaela's view. Civilization became a distant memory. Ruts and tire tracks in the dirt were the only clues to a human presence so far from everything.

Nobody spoke during the long trek. The ride smoothed out when Ultra Magnus' tires found pavement again. It blended right in with the dirt roads. He accelerated, letting their dust cloud fade away behind him.

Elita opened her mouth, slapped her hands together and grinned. "I know where we're going!"

Gravel joined the dirty asphalt under Ultra Magnus' tires. Mikaela saw human civilization again at last. Guard shacks, wooden poles, security cameras, lights and a chain link fence grew closer. Signs warned people away from crossing the striped black and white gate arms, which had reflective stop signs denoting their centers.

 _Area 51_. Mikaela thought to herself. _Of course it's gonna be Area 51. It's everybody's favorite place to hatch alien conspiracies_.

New black poles sprouted above ground along the road. Ultra Magnus slowed his speed. Silver flaps opened on the sides of the poles. Energon sensors.

His air brakes hissed. He parked so close to the gate that his hood nearly touched the outermost stop sign. Kicked-up dust settled as he switched off his engine. It had to be close to a hundred degrees out. Cutting the air conditioning turned the truck interior into an oven.

"This is very risky, so listen," he said, his voice deadly serious. "I will be told to let you out and transform. Make sure your phones are off and put away. Keep your hands visible at all times and do not reach for your pockets unless you are told to. Do exactly what the guards say and let me do the talking. The officers about to approach us are not going to be pleased with your presence. Compliance will ensure your safety. This is a military installation and they don't play around. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yeah." Elita wiped her nose.

"Definitely," Mikaela replied.

Sweat prickled on her forehead. She glanced at Elita, who sat with her fists bunched on her knees. Their eyes met. Elita's were puckish and fearless.

The door of the closest shack opened. Two men wearing desert camouflage fatigues stepped out. One was tall and pale, the other tan and muscular. Sunglasses and hats concealed most of their features.

"It's the Camo Dudes," whispered Elita.

They had their pistols drawn and their lips pressed tight together. Just like cops.

The tall guy shouted, "Release your passengers and transform!"

"Out you go," said Ultra Magnus.

Mikaela emerged first, ensuring her hands stayed visible to the men while she did so. The passenger door bumped shut behind her. She almost slipped hopping off the metal step onto the gravel.

Billowy clouds obscured the sun. A cool breeze offered faint relief from the scorching desert heat.

The muscular man spoke in a calm, low voice, "Put your hands up and walk backwards towards me."

"Okay." She did exactly as instructed. Off to the side, Elita followed suit.

Ultra Magnus transformed into robot mode once everyone backed safely away. He stood at rigid attention, a perfect soldier sculpted out of shiny truck parts. His left optic shone brightly again and didn't screw itself shut against the punishing sun.

"My name is Ultra Magnus. I am an Autobot under command of Optimus Prime." He kept his tone carefully neutral. "The humans are traveling with me to meet with Optimus. We mean you no harm. The Autobots are sending a ship to pick us up and this is strategically the safest place for such an operation."

"Yeah? You're not here to blow us up?" The muscular soldier inched closer, "Say the greeting and prove it."

Ultra Magnus smiled and knelt down. He presented his open hands to show he was unarmed. Beams from his optics projected brilliant white dots onto the dusty ground.

" _Bah weep gragnah wheep nini bong_ ," he said.

"Whoa," murmured Elita.

"They're good, Mojica!" said the tall man.

"Yup," replied the man known as Mojica. "Call it in, Myers."

Both men lowered their guns and faced Elita and Mikaela.

Mojica gave quiet, but firm instructions, "Stay with Ultra Magnus at all times, and don't tell anyone what you see past this gate. This facility is top secret. No photography, no recording video and no outbound phone calls. Your phones are to stay in your pocket unless you take a call from the Autobots. Your cell phone signals will be monitored until you leave. Is that clear?"

"As crystal," Mikaela nodded. She dropped her hands to her sides, taking care to keep them out of her pockets.

He focused Elita next. She made a zipping gesture over her lips and saluted him.

Both men holstered their pistols and returned to the shack without a goodbye.

Ultra Magnus rolled his optics. "And now we wait for them to contact HQ."

Mikaela squinted up at him. "What did you say to those guys?"

"I said the universal greeting in Rustian."

Elita raised both eyebrows. "What's the universal greeting in English?"

He squinted back at her. "The best approximation is, 'I arrive at your presence peacefully and harbor no ill intent towards you.'"

She smirked. "That's poetic."

Their conversation cut off when the black and white gate flipped up to grant them passage. There was another open gate behind it with two arms. The soldiers waved at them through.

Ultra Magnus tucked himself into vehicle mode. Mikaela and Elita climbed back in. Blessed air conditioning blasted their sweating faces. He rolled forward after they buckled their seatbelts. It wasn't long before the guard shacks were specks in the distance.

Strong wind blew dust across the road. Clouds billowed past the mountains, which loomed larger than ever. Mikaela exhaled, unwilling to admit how unnerving it was to have guns pointed at her face.

"This is gonna sound really redundant, but..." Elita leaned back and slapped her palms together, "Oh, my God, aliens!"

Mikaela wanted to sink through the upholstery in her seat. "El, really? We're sitting in one!"

"I know, but...c'mon, this is Area 51! It's the Bermuda Triangle of alien conspiracy theories!"

"HAH!" Ultra Magnus barked with laughter as he sped across the long road ahead.

.o

Twilight arrived on the coattails of a storm. Clouds burst open overhead. Brutal rain lashed everything silly enough to walk beneath it.

Ultra Magnus ushered Mikaela and Elita into an empty air conditioned hangar. Mikaela found herself a tad disappointed at not seeing flying saucers anywhere. Elita looked similarly miffed.

They pulled canned food from their bug-out supplies. Ultra Magnus helpfully supplied his hand as a burner because campfires weren't a good idea.

Area 51 was like a town hidden in a giant bowl of mountains. Except towns didn't have several hangars sitting off to the side. Nellis Air Force Base and its test range stretched out across a massive white salt flat. Everything reminded Mikaela of Diego Garcia, albeit it was spread out more and lacked the ocean views.

Abundant energon sensors watched the sky, cameras capable of seeing infrared and ultraviolet light watched the ground, and motion sensors accounted for everything in between.

"So, are you ready for the big secret?" Ultra Magnus said as he watched them eat their canned beans.

"They won't shoot you for telling us?" Mikaela wiped her mouth.

"You hardly pose a threat to national security. Keep what I say here between us and everyone will be fine."

She snorted at that. "Nobody besides us knows I'm married to a giant robot. They'll never believe me if I told them the truth about being here. Spill it, Mags."

"Gimme," Elita made grabby hands.

"It's not as earth-shattering anymore since humans know about Cybertronians now."

"Mags, c'mon," Elita whined, "Don't tease!"

Ultra Magnus shifted from kneeling to sitting on the ground next to them. He bent one knee and clasped his hands around it.

"Three things happened here related to Cybertronians. First, humans tried to synthesize protomatter-- you call it Transformium-- for pairing Cybertronian technology with aircraft and ground weaponry."

Raising his index finger stopped a slew of premature questions.

"Second, one of the pillars from the moon was brought here for study. Nobody was able to crack the technology or figure out how it worked, so it was passed to Sector Seven, then NEST.

"Third, and perhaps the most famous of all--"

Elita's eyes lit up. "The crash at Roswell?"

"Yes. That was a piece of the Ark's engines, which looks saucer-like. I suspect it was in a decaying orbit around the Earth for decades before it finally crashed. The glyphs helped humans figure out it was made of the same material as Megatron, but they erroneously classified it as an unknown piece of his body. And here's where people get the conspiracy wrong. The recovered piece of the Ark isn't kept here. It was smuggled into the Hoover Dam to reside with Megatron and the AllSpark. The floor in some areas is actually the engine part, and nobody except the military knows."

Darker clouds rushed across the sky. Wind howled around the metal hangar. Torrential rain clattered on the roof and created a pale mist near the ground outside. Petrichor permeated the air. Ultra Magnus frowned at the ceiling.

"Keeping the information about the tests in a remote location prevents it from spreading to unwanted eyes and ears. Documentation never leaves Area 51 in any form, not even digital. I choose not to store the data in my memory banks or talk about what I know about this place outside of its walls in order to respect its secrecy.

"So the urban legends and conspiracy theories about this place have a grain of truth. 'Alien' things _are_ being concealed here. Just...no flying saucers or bug-eyed gray people."

"Awesome!" Elita beamed and stuck her plastic spoon into the bean can. "But what about Chicago? Does that make this place worthless?"

"No. The information protected here poses a threat to humanity. It's safer to keep it hidden in plain sight behind urban legends and conspiracy theories."

Hearing that erased Mikaela's disappointment at not seeing any flying saucers. The truth sounded much, much cooler anyway. She almost reached for her phone to check for missed calls. Remembering the warning she received stayed her hand.

Cold air whistled into the hangar. Amazing, it was sweltering outside a short time ago. She crossed her arms and sighed.

Elita untied the plaid purple flannel shirt wrapped around her waist and shoved her arms through the sleeves.

Ultra Magnus squinted at Mikaela, moved his chest plate and produced her duffle bag. She gratefully dug through it.

"Ugh. How the hell is it so cold in Nevada? Egypt wasn't anything like this."

Mikaela removed her floral-print singlet, leaving her in just the red halter-strap top and jeans. The only remotely warm item that matched her current attire was the lightweight Pink Ranger zip up hoodie. A gag gift from 'Santa' last Christmas-- neither Elita nor Optimus admitted to who bought it.

 _It's morphin' time, pterodactyl_ , Mikaela thought amusedly to herself. She kept the hoodie unzipped, stashed her singlet in the bag and passed it back to Ultra Magnus. He tucked it away like a sneaky convict hiding contraband.

"Thanks. When's the ship going to show up?"

"The current E.T.A. is two hours from now."

"I hope we can breathe in it," Elita mused.

Ultra Magnus regarded her with a raised brow ridge. "Creating an artificial atmosphere won't be a problem."

Thunder ripped through the mountains all around.

"Damn, my head hurts," Mikaela muttered to herself.

"Would you like Neosporin for that?"

"Aspirin, Mags. Aspirin is for headaches." She snickered at his flub. "Neosporin is ointment for cuts and scrapes."

"Oh. Hm." But he resumed his questioning look.

"I'm fine. It's tension. Aspirin never helps my tension headaches." Mikaela yawned and rubbed her temples. "It'll go away on its own. Maybe I'll take a nap."

Elita buttoned the sleeves of her shirt and turned the collar down. "C'mon, Mags. Let's get out of mom's hair for awhile."

Chuckling, Ultra Magnus uncurled from his sitting position and headed for the back of the hangar. Elita bent over Mikaela, giggling in her ear.

"I found his fifth wheel hitch."

"Eh?" Mikaela crinkled her nose, "Where?"

"His _butt!_ "

Now Mikaela had to look. There it was, separated into two equal halves. They were metal butt cheeks half-concealed by the mud flap covering his rear. She grinned and swatted Elita's arm.

"I'm raising a perv."

Elita wiped her pigtails off her shoulders. "You look at dad's butt all the time."

"That's because he's my husband," Mikaela mirrored Elita's tone right back at her.

"Is there something wrong with my backside?" Ultra Magnus spoke across the hangar.

Super hearing. Of course.

Elita's face flushed brilliant red. She burst out laughing and walked right up to him, pointing, "You have a butt cape like Alphonse Elric, Mags!"

He sat down on the cement floor, crossed his arms and fake-glared at her. "I have no idea who Alphonse Elric is."

"Look up _Fullmetal Alchemist_. Al is the suit of armor." She climbed onto his shoulder and poked his audio, which made the antenna on that side momentarily retract. " _That_ , Mags, is a butt cape. Guess how you wear your mud flaps?"

"Oh. I see. His is larger than mine." His stoic face softened when he laughed.

Elita's eyes widened. She giggled, covering her mouth. "That sounded so wrong."

He scrunched his face up. "I will never understand why the human race is so amused by phallic imagery."

Mikaela looked away, letting them laugh and talk among themselves.

Watching water stream into a grate reminded her of seeing Tranquility disappear underwater. Not an image she wanted lingering in her thoughts.

 _Get past it, Mikaela_ , she told herself, _You made it out alive_.

Ironically, she never said that to Optimus. It would be cruel if she did.

Rainfall provided distracting white noise with bonus aromatherapy. Mikaela sat against the wall by the door and shut her eyes. Escaping into slumber silenced her unwelcome inner critic.

.o

"Mom!"

"What?" Mikaela jolted awake to tenebrous skies and rain still beating the ground.

Elita gripped the edges of her flannel shirt. "The Autobots are here."

Ultra Magnus waited on the paved runway running along the salt flat. Rain formed sheets so thick that his optics illuminated the drops as they fell.

Mikaela uncurled off the uncomfortable hangar floor. Cool wind blew against her face. The deluge outside stopped. Not because the clouds finished dropping water-- something inhumanly enormous came between the rain and the ground. Beyond that, nothing revealed the spaceship's presence.

Thrumming engine noises broke through the storm. Lightning flashed continuously, striking and silhouetting the giant real-life UFO hovering above Area 51. The vessel brushed the lightning off like nothing while crackling thunder bounded around the mountains. The spacecraft looked like someone tried to turn the Millennium Falcon from _Star Wars_ into a fat spider and gave up halfway through because they attached the legs backwards. Thick rain and clouds obscured it completely from view beyond the mountains.

Rainfall gradually reappeared as the giant vessel took up most of the salt flat it landed on. Blinding floodlights trained upward on the ship. Droplets glistened across its gunmetal gray hull. A hatch at the front descended as a ramp next to Ultra Magnus.

The only figure to step out sported bright yellow armor and a cute, friendly face.

"Bumblebee!" Mikaela forgot all about being intimidated by the spaceship. She sprinted through the storm and halted at the Autobot's feet.

Bumblebee knelt and squinted his optics in a smile. It wasn't his radio that spoke to her, but a soft, warm voice she barely remembered. "Hi, Mikaela."

She patted his cheek, beaming. "Got your voice working, huh?"

"That's an affirmative. I had a new vocal unit installed, so it shouldn't glitch out on me."

"Cutie-Bee!" Elita shouted the nickname she gave Bumblebee when she was two. She jumped over puddles and almost slipped on the wet ground to reach him. "Holy crap, it's been forever!"

He scooped her up like a kitten and set her upon his shoulder. "Elita! You grew up! How old are you now?"

"I'm twelve!" She wrapped her arms around the support frame in his neck. "Bee! You can talk! Is that your real voice or a replacement?"

"This is my voice. It took my new vocal unit longer than expected to code to my voice-print, but here we are."

Mikaela almost forgot Elita never heard Bumblebee speak before. She turned to smile up at Ultra Magnus when he joined them at the end of the ramp.

"Mags," Elita waved, "Bumblebee's voice works!"

"Does it now?" Ultra Magnus placed his hands on his hips. "Then say something interesting."

"Something interesting." Bumblebee retorted snottily and rolled his optics.

"Mmhmm, that's his voice all right."

Mikaela coughed to cover up a rude snicker. Elita looked up into the ship's interior, but shadows obscured what lay inside.

An unfamiliar Autobot emerged at the top of the ramp. His bright green armor fell along his body like a long duster and his helm gave the appearance of old aviator's goggles pushed up off his optics. Golden-hued plating decorated his silver face like a scruffy five o'clock shadow. A metal toothpick protruded from the corner of his mouth.

"Nobody's getting any younger in here, Bumblebee." The Autobot's gruff voice cut over the rain. "Grab our comrade and let's go!"

Ultra Magnus' expression changed from humor to open-mouthed surprise. He craned his neck and stared at the other mech.

"Crosshairs?"

Crosshairs wiped at his optics and blinked. "Maggie?"

Elita and Mikaela exchanged a curious glance.

Ultra Magnus let his hands fall to his sides and approached the foot of the ramp. "Who else did you expect?"

Crosshairs stuck his toothpick to the side of his head-- of course it would be magnetic. He bolted down the ramp, lifted Ultra Magnus off the ground with a bear hug and spun him around. Quite a feat, since he was only chin-high to the taller bot. Floodlights outlined their shiny metal silhouettes against the shimmering rain.

"Ahhh, Maggie! You stuck-up old slagger! Where were you hidin'?"

"I was assigned guard dut-- oof! Hey! Put me down, you uncouth aft!"

"I like your new one." Crosshairs let Ultra Magnus' feet hit the ground and suggestively groped his rear end with both hands.

"You _would_." Ultra Magnus squinted. "You still can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?"

Crosshairs glowered back. "Nope."

Ultra Magnus rested his hands on Crosshairs' upper back. His smooth voice dropped to a salacious rumble. "You're fortunate that I like it that way."

Their expressions softened and their optics dimmed. Mikaela saw that look on Optimus' face numerous times, so she knew what came next.

Both mechs tilted their heads to opposite sides and kissed. Bright sparks flew when their lip plates touched. There was a bit of rubbing and biting.

Mikaela grinned in delight at the exchange. Elita folded her arms and quietly watched.

Bumblebee rolled his eyes. "Don't mind them. Their relationship isn't legendary like Ratchet and Ironhide, but they're just as volatile."

The smooching Autobots separated long enough to slow blink at each other. They embraced, uncaring of the lightening rain or onlookers.

Servos whirred in Bumblebee's leg. "Is something wrong, Elita?"

"No." Elita brushed him off.

His raised brow ridge suggested he didn't believe her. Mikaela swore she was _offended_. Unfortunately, she didn't get a chance to inquire about it.

Ultra Magnus scooped Crosshairs over his shoulder like a metal sack of potatoes and ascended the ramp. His optics shone jovially, like someone wide awake after being groggy for hours. He had Crosshairs' toothpick in his mouth.

"I apologize for this ruffian's terrible manners."

"Hello, squishies!" Crosshairs waved to them in passing. Floodlight beams briefly illuminated his features. Mikaela spotted a Rustian dot glyph on his chin. She smiled to herself.

Elita sighed when both bots vanished into the ship.

"Bee, are they bonded?"

"No. They talked about it," Bumblebee replied.

He welcomed Mikaela into his hand after she slipped twice trying to walk up the wet ramp. Definitely a bad day to wear ankle boots.

Petrichor gave way to an oily metallic smell like an auto repair shop. The atmosphere inside the ship was unusual in its somberness. Ultra Magnus and Crosshairs conversed quietly with another green bot who sported a metal beard and a helm worthy of old war movies. The dark green Autobot puffed on a metal cigar that didn't emit any smoke or scent.

Bumblebee gestured to the rotund green mech. "That's Hound."

"What's he smoking?" whispered Elita.

"A fumeless cy-gar, of course."

One more bot appeared through a corridor. He looked like he walked off _The Last Samurai_ 's set wearing the famous red armor. His golden-hued face bore a seriousness that rivaled Optimus' most grim expressions.

"That's gotta be Drift," Elita said to Mikaela.

"Yup."

Something about the way Drift surveyed the activity before entering was way too familiar. He approached Bumblebee for a closer look at Mikaela and Elita.

"You must be Prime's human family."

"Yeah, we are. I'm Elita." Elita waved happily at him. "You're Drift. You made the pickup call."

"Mm." Drift nodded once, slowly.

Mikaela fought an urge to shrink back from Drift's keen gaze. Maybe his optics always looked intense.

"Hi. I'm Mikaela."

"I know." Half his mouth quirked in a smile that marginally softened his optics. "Optimus speaks fondly of you."

Well, _that_ sent her heart fluttering.

Hound approached after Crosshairs and Ultra Magnus walked away. Mikaela waited until Elita focused on him to whisper at Drift.

"Where's Optimus?"

Drift noticed she wanted an escape. He gently gathered her up off Bumblebee, carried her to the ornate corridor he came through and set her down on the uneven floor.

"Continue straight ahead and you will come upon a closed door. I wish you luck in convincing him to open it."

Asking why didn't sound like a great idea, so Mikaela kept her questions to herself.

"Thanks, Drift."

In reply, Drift touched a hand to his chest and departed. His footsteps barely caused any noise or vibrations.

The dimly lit corridor looked like something out of a horror movie. Mikaela kept close to the wall, ever-conscious that she walked in spaceship made for giants. She picked her way along the floor until she came to an immense door.

"Good luck," said a man's voice, "I tried to talk Optimus out of there for an hour and a half. He's not budging."

Startled, Mikaela spun towards the source. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. A muscular, attractive man emerged from the shadows. Chin-length brown hair hung in straight wisps around his ears and neck. His slightly tanned skin was clean, but his ragged white shirt looked like he showered and re-dressed in it. She could tell he hadn't shaved in a few days.

Wary, she hedged, "And you are...?"

"Sorry." He smiled boyishly, extending a hand, "Cade Yeager. Nice to make your acquaintance, ma'am."

Now Mikaela recognized his voice. He called from China to let her know Optimus was returning. A trustworthy person. She accepted his handshake and gave it one strong pump.

"Hi, I'm Mikaela. Mikaela Banes-Prime."

"Yeah, uh, I know. Optimus told me all about you."

Again, a thrill leapt through her pulse, but her concern cut it short. "He did, did he?"

"Mmhmm." Cade rested his hands on his hips.

"So what's his problem?"

He looked upward at the titanic door. "Dunno. He charged in, locked the door and had a breakdown. Lots of yelling and throwing things around. Now he's not talking to anybody."

Mikaela's heart squeezed in on itself. Taking a deep breath calmed her nerves. Optimus usually took his rage out on bits of wood behind the cabin. But that was his human-sized hologram, and he only chopped up trees that already fell. He often feared the sort of damage he could do at his full size.

While he never, ever felt any desire to strike out at Mikaela or Elita, he constantly worried about them accidentally getting caught in the crossfire. All it took was someone opening a door or rushing to console him at the wrong moment to bring disaster.

"I'll try to talk to him. He usually listens to me," said Mikaela. She regarded Cade kindly. "Thanks."

"Worth a shot." Cade nodded politely and departed up the hallway she just came through.

Once alone, Mikaela dialed Optimus' number on her phone. She listened to it ring and ring and ring until the thump of a pickup. Talking to a bot's commline wasn't much different than chatting up someone else using a phone. Background noises and a bot's bodily sounds often transmitted unless they switched to a private line.

Optimus didn't say anything, but Mikaela heard his eyelids clicking.

"Hey, boss bot." She touched the door. "It's me."

No response other than a faint whirring.

Mikaela pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. She switched her phone to speaker so she could hold it like a walkie talkie. "Your buddies dropped by Area 51 to pick me, Elita and Mags up. I'm here for you. Can you open the door?"

Wheezing and grinding noises crackled through the phone. Silent treatments from Optimus were never malicious or manipulative. He clammed up like this whenever he feared losing his cool.

But he needed to remember who spoke to him that very minute.

She bristled. "Don't shut me out! I don't care if you cuss at me or throw things. Just open this damn door and let me in so we can talk ab--"

"They _know_."

No context needed. Those booming words engulfed everything.

Sweat beaded on Mikaela's forehead. She took another deep breath to keep her mind clear. Neither said anything for a timeless time. The pause weighed more than neutron stars.

Murmured voices spoke at the far end of the ship. No shadows darkened the corridor.

"Optimus, please. Open the door." Mikaela touched the impassible obstacle between them. "I don't care what it looks like in there and I don't care what you look like. It's just me out here, okay? Nobody else."

Silence.

Click.

Rapid busy signal.

"Oh, no you don't." Mikaela redialed.

The door whirred open a fraction of a degree before she connected the call. She bolted through, pocketing her phone on the way.

Swords as big as Optimus' lay scattered about. She climbed over the pommel of one inside the door and examined the cold airplane hangar-sized space. Immense silver statues framed all four walls and a dais marked the room's center.

Optimus sat against the opposite wall, his form shadowed under the dim lights. Dirt and dents marred his frame. Dried seawater scents wafted off his armor. He leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees and held his head in his hands, unable to look at her.

Mikaela sat on the floor next to him. Ridiculous, considering the size difference between them. Being around his human-sized hologram so much almost made her forget he was enormous.

He covered his optics with his left hand and rested his right hand flat on the floor. She rubbed his knuckles as if warming them. The appendage flipped over, delicately grasping her hand between thumb and forefinger. She curled her fingers around his fingertip. He slid the palm obscuring his optics downward over his mouth.

"This..." Optimus rubbed his forehead against his hand as though brushing imaginary hair out of his face. "I-I don't know where to begin."

Mikaela patted his fingertip. "Start where you need to."

He clapped his hand over his mouth like someone about to vomit. His optics opened wide, and at last he blurted it out.

"I wanted to _die_. I was _supposed_ to die. I _deserved_ to die for what I-- Cade prevented my execution by the Knights. But, afterward, I almost... I almost..." He mimed tearing his own Spark chamber out. His intakes wheezed, "I thought of you and Elita and all the possibilities... I couldn't do it. As much as I wanted to...I couldn't."

Hot heaviness clenched Mikaela's throat. "Do you think you'll try again?"

"No." A shiver ran through him. "I was weak. I was a fool. I let everyone down. You, Elita, this planet, the Autobots...everyone."

Mikaela stood up and squinted at the familiarity in his misery. "Everybody fucks up, Optimus. How bad can it be?"

Optimus barked a cold, bitter laugh that didn't dance in his optics or alight his face.

"To put it in your most eloquent terms, Mikaela, this is the fuck-up to rule all fuck-ups."

Her eyes stung. Prodding him to tell her exactly what happened wasn't going to work anymore. She had to brave his storm until he unveiled its center. Still, hints for where to navigate never hurt.

"You said your men know about the stasis trauma."

"Mmhmm. It came up when Drift ran a CPU scan to make sure Quintessa didn't leave any malware behind."

He grimaced and simulated a sigh.

"No malware showed up, but the stasis trauma signature was there for everyone to see. The room fell as silent as a vacuum, and I felt everyone start to pity me. I have never felt so humiliated in my life! That...that is not how I wanted them to find out."

"I'm sorry." Mikaela relaxed her shoulders.

"For what? It isn't your fault."

She rubbed his calf armor since it was in her immediate reach. "Maybe it's time to talk to the Autobots. Tell them your story. Demystify everything they're so afraid of about mental illness."

His facial plating scrunched, the robot equivalent of a whiskey face. "I hate to shoot down your idea like this, but what difference will telling my story make to them?"

Mikaela balked at him. She knew that was the depression talking. Depressive episodes followed his emotional outbursts like thunder after a lightning flash.

It hurt, seeing Optimus Prime, the eons-old Autobot leader who always had a pep talk or words of hope, sink deeper into himself. Everybody looked up to Optimus and sought him for help with their problems. Optimus looked up and saw stars.

But Mikaela was among those stars. The universe brought them into each others' lives. Fate tried to tear them apart, and it failed miserably because love held them together like gravity.

And sometimes, love had to be tough. Mikaela squared her shoulders, straightened her spine and let Optimus have it.

"What difference will your story make? Really?" She started ticking items off on her fingers, "What difference did the Bible make, huh? What about Anne Frank's diary? Fairy tales? Arthurian legends? Godzilla movies, Doctor Who and Star Trek? What about them?"

He scowled at the floor. "Hmph, what _about_ them?"

But he was listening. He walked away when he didn't want to hear something, and he hadn't moved to stand. Mikaela noticed that and lowered her voice to its normal volume.

"The stories we tell challenge how people think about a situation. They make us take a walk in someone else's shoes and show us a new point of view. Stories make us believe in magic and give us hope. Most of all, Optimus, stories tell us we aren't alone in how we feel."

He grimaced and covered his face with both hands. She watched his audio covers perform a quarter turn as he digested what she said, so she kept talking.

"Your men might be hiding something just like you were. You said it yourself-- Cybertronians keep mental illnesses hush-hush because they're afraid of them. You're their leader, so lead them."

A metallic growl escaped Optimus' throat. He slid his hands off his face and snapped, "And what if they shun me further, or see me as unfit to lead?"

Anguish boiled off him like stormy seas. Good. Anger was better than blank nothing. Mikaela grabbed it and hung on.

"That's why you need to talk to them, Optimus! Look, what good is staying quiet going to do? Everybody knows. Everybody looks at you when there's a problem, right?"

"That may not be the case soon," he grumbled, "Mikaela--"

"No." Mikaela karate-chopped the air to cut him off. She utilized her 'I'm-your-mom-now-listen' tone when she said, "You're their leader, and you're damn good at leading by example. Now lead! _Be_ the example! Tell them what it's like to have stasis trauma. Answer their questions. _Show_ them how you live, fight and cope with it. Show them that it's okay to talk about mental illness by _talking about it_."

"What if they don't listen?"

She arched an eyebrow. "What if they _do?_ "

Hints of a smile cracked through the tension in Optimus' face plates. Mikaela knew that look.

 _Gotcha, boss bot_ , she thought.

Servos whirred when he clenched his fists. Sadness took over again, clouding him behind unknowns. He was a hurricane of emotions. Still, stirred-up feelings were light years better than apathy.

Mikaela eased out of her authoritative stance to take the pressure off him. The next rain band arrived in its own time.

"Your world went from being caught in the crossfire to becoming part of my world's war. Every death weighs on my Spark, and I caused many today. Far too many. Many more will follow in the future." Optimus met her gaze again. "When does it end, Mikaela?"

The desperation and agony in his optics buffeted her. Having no clear-cut answer felt like a roof losing shingles to the storm.

Their relationship built itself on a moment like this. Struggle provided the raw materials. Communication did the building. Listening became the framework. Love was the foundation.

"I don't know," she whispered.

Optimus shuddered and covered his face again. He was gripped in a silence so agonizing that Mikaela heard his body creak.

Someone, or some _thing_ , had destroyed him in a different way than all his other experiences.

"Quintessa is the Great Deceiver Elita was talking about." Optimus's voice barely crossed the distance. "I fell for her trickery. I fell right into it. I believed her lies. I-I allowed this--" He gestured upward at the imagined sky, "--to happen to Earth."

Aha. A path to his storm's center. Bots with stasis trauma were prone to suggestibility because their minds already struggled at distinguishing flashbacks from reality. But _that_ only happened when somebody messed with a mentally ill bot's software.

"There's no way to know that for sure," Mikaela protested. A reflexive response meant to break through a torrent of intrusive thoughts.

Optimus jerked his head up, his optics narrowing into slits. He jabbed his pointer finger towards his chest, snarling, " _I_ know that for sure! I have _always_ known _exactly_ who _I_ am!"

The sudden loudness of his voice sent her leaping back half a foot. He closed his fist and stared at it like a traitor. His glowing pupils became pinpoints that flared with his words.

"I have questioned the decisions I made." He raised his fingers and thumb to count off his declarations as he stated them. "I have questioned the outcomes of battles I fought. I have questioned how many deaths I could have prevented. I have questioned the example I set for the Autobots. I have questioned my honor."

Then he punched the floor, sending a vibration rippling up her legs. His voice rose into an enraged roar, "I _never_ questioned _myself!_ I _never_ questioned _who_ **_I_** am! **_Never!_** "

Rage reverberated around the room, an echo painting his pain on every surface it touched.

Time stood still for a beat. Mikaela licked her dry lips and relaxed. His fury didn't frighten her nearly as much as not knowing what happened to evoke it.

Optimus' expression cooled from rage to horror and finally settled on neutral.

"My behavior was extremely inappropriate. You did nothing to deserve that. I'm sorry." He pressed a hand over his optics and slouched forward. Shame colored his movements in all shades of shadows and darkness.

There he went again, worrying about her when he was flying apart at the seams.

"Shh, honey."

Mikaela stepped into the roar of his storm and caressed his left pinkie finger. Optimus tightened his joints like he wanted to contain something too massive to experience all at once.

"I don't know what to do," he murmured, his voice strained, "I don't know what to feel. This is all so confusing."

Mikaela swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Talk to me. I don't care how long it takes."

Servos whirred. Optimus offered the hand previously covering his optics. She stepped on. He held her against his chest. His hands surrounded her in tender safety. She grasped the V-shaped strips of metal that dove down between his chest plates and leaned her forehead against his chin. It became so quiet she heard the ringing pulse of his Spark.

"I love you," Mikaela whispered.

"I love you, too," Optimus rumbled back.

A moment later, he set her gently on the dais, wiped his face with one hand and began gathering up the swords. Episodes like this urged him to curl up, shut the world away and not move for days at a time. Menial tasks like putting a messy space in order occupied his mind just enough to keep moving.

Getting busy also broke his voice loose. He told Mikaela everything while he worked. Even when his voice shook, he gave her the full, ugly truth.

About Quintessa. Earth being Unicron. The Relic that turned out to be Excalibur. The Witwiccans. The Staff. Merlin. King Arthur. The Knights. Stonehenge. Cybertron.

About what Quintessa did. Chains. Energy blasts. Beaten. Brutalized. Fed lies. Sweet-talked. Suggested to. Confused. Helpless. Afraid. Beaten again. Angry. Beaten _again_. Pain. Rage. Reprogramming. Losing his identity. Losing his sense of self. Losing sight of his goals. Shutting down mentally. Believing he had Cybertron's best interests at Spark. Beating the tar out of Bumblebee.

Bumblebee's voice bringing his senses back. Submitting himself to die at the hands of the Knights. Cade interfering. Megatron taking the Staff. Suicidal thoughts. Doubts. Cade's speech. Pushing himself to stand up and fight. The battle in the Ignition Chamber. Seeing the damage done to Earth.

His story horrified Mikaela. Her blood ran cold in her veins, yet she maintained a schooled expression and listened. He needed to get this off his chest and process it without being questioned.

The disaster zone of a room slowly regained order. Optimus knelt by the dais, which brought them face to face.

"Enough energy was gained to begin rebuilding Cybertron, but there is no way of knowing the harm done to Earth. Even if I corrected my mistake, the fact remains that my actions led to the state of your planet." He simulated a sigh and let his shoulders slump. "I may have destroyed any faith or trust your people had in mine."

Mikaela shook her head. "Elita still believes in you. I still believe in you. Cade sounds like he believes in you."

"And the seven billion out there? The ones who continue to hunt and destroy us?" He pointed in the general direction of outside. "What about them?"

Mikaela guiltily recalled wondering whether Cybertronians were truly living beings. Optimus gazed at her with all the pain of his Spark reflected in his blue optics.

"The people out there?" She gathered her own guilt and squished it into anger. "They're bigoted sheep who won't think for themselves. To _hell_ with them!"

Why couldn't the human race look Optimus in the eye and see what she saw? Why did human arrogance prevent people from realizing the sole difference between them and Cybertronians was the makeup of their bodies?

"But I believed Quintessa's lies. I chose to believe them. Then I took the Staff from Vivian's hands myself. And Bumblebee..."

"Sounds like Bumblebee and Cade knew that wasn't the real you," Mikaela interjected. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. "You said Cade tried to talk sense into you."

"Yes."

"And it worked, didn't it?"

"No... Bumblebee's voice broke through the reprogramming."

"That means a part of you knew you were doing the wrong thing."

Optimus squeezed his optics shut and angrily hung his head. When he straightened up again, he snapped, "I _believed_ I was _right!_ "

"Do you still believe you were?"

"No! Mikaela, you're missing the point!"

Mikaela scowled at him. He kept shifting course in the conversation, and it was as frustrating as cruising behind an erratic driver who never signaled before changing lanes.

She threw her hands up in the air and did the equivalent to honking her horn.

"Optimus, you're all over the place. I can't keep up!"

The dais vibrated when he stood up. He linked his hands together behind his head and paced a lap around the room.

"Humans want a reason to distrust me, and I gave them one. Cybertronians fear mental illness, and my actions perpetuated that fear. Everyone has reasons to doubt and fear me."

 _Aha_.

Mikaela's frustration cooled. Now she saw the raging eye wall of his hurricane, and she hated that she couldn't shield him from it.

"I don't." She allowed herself a small smile.

"I know you don't."

Optimus separated his linked hands, slid them forward and clutched both sides of his head. He ground his lip plates together. The squeak of metal on metal wasn't loud when he did it in his bot hologram. At full size, it sounded like his jaw hinges were about to snap.

Whole-body tremors stopped him in his tracks. He dropped his right hand at his side and pressed his left palm against his forehead. His pacing resumed. Air whooshed violently through the vents in the nape of his neck and steam escaped his nose. He resembled a caged dragon warming up to breathe fire.

The long columns of steam became short, irregular bursts. His audio covers spun wildly and his inner and outer pupils dilated to their widest aperture. He rubbed his hands together and glanced around like he expected something horrible to happen.

"All I see... Death...chaos...destruction...failure...and _unknowns_. It's all so difficult. I just-- I-I just..."

They sailed through the eye of his hurricane and into the other eye-wall. Now the wind raged in the opposite direction.

Mikaela took a deep, cleansing breath and focused on making herself calm. She relaxed her posture before guessing at his train of thought.

"You don't know where to go from here?"

He nodded, grinding his mouth plates. Steam wisped from his nose again.

"I hate this," he grumbled.

Sometimes, Mikaela longed for the days when brief conversations perked him back up before her eyes. He used to see the good in everything and everyone until Cemetery Wind entered the picture. Out of all the betrayals he endured, a careless act by a human named Maxwell Pagonis hurt the most.

"Me, too." She beckoned towards herself with both hands. "C'mon. Sit down before the shakes knock you over."

Optimus shuddered, slapping his palm against his brow as if trying to beat away the tremors. He knelt next to the dais and grasped the handle of a sword.

"Please avoid contact with my head. I-I don't want to burn you."

Mikaela daringly swung off two cross guards to land hard on his left shoulder. She held onto his collar armor for added security.

"I'll be fine."

Another shiver hit him. Tremors were the most physically debilitating part of his panic attacks. They disrupted his fine motor skills, causing him to drop things or lose his balance, and they happened because his fight-or-flight programming kept kicking online. Useful in battle-- he didn't have to think about using his weapons if they were already armed-- but detrimental during a panic attack. He did something like using a desktop computer's task manager to shut it off. Motor function disturbances were the side effect of him literally turning a slice of his brain off and on again.

"Think about our first dance," said Mikaela, "Do you remember what a beautiful night that was?"

His vents whooshed and the metallic ozone smell was almost overpowering.

"The skies were clear...a typical spring night for that geographical location." He quivered, his voice strained, "And you were distressed about your spoiled night. I remember-- I searched Google for the significance of a prom because I was curious about your attire."

The heat coming off him dwindled, though he still emitted steam. Mikaela gazed straight ahead at the matte metal door across the room and let him talk.

"...I must admit, I experienced some trepidation immediately before I asked you to dance."

The decision responsible for _everything_ sprang up in her mind.

_"May I have this dance, Mikaela?"_

She had no notion of what lay in his outstretched hand. All she knew was she had no fear when she took it and felt his fingers close around hers.

_"Okay, I'll dive in."_

And they started a dance that never ceased.

Optimus grimaced and pressed his fingertips to the sides of his head like it hurt. "The best part of that night was you doing exactly what you are doing right now."

Mikaela smiled up at him, "Is it working?"

He eyed her through the corner of his optic. His pupil was still disproportionately huge, almost like he had two rings of blue LEDs instead of one.

"Yeah, a little."

Steam followed his response. A long, healthy exhale instead of tiny bursts. She noticed it getting thinner, which meant less heat. His audios weren't spinning as much and optics contracted the right aperture for the ambient light.

"Mikaela... I'm sorry."

"Why?"

He looked away. "I am not the bot who danced with you on your prom night. I _can't_ be that bot anymore."

She wiped her bubble ponytail off her shoulders. "I'm not the girl who danced with you on my prom night. I can't be that girl anymore, either."

Optimus peered at her. "Mikaela-- I--"

"Optimus, it's okay." She touched his cheek. It was still hot from his panic attack, but not painfully so. "I needed a hero on my prom night. I don't need one right now."

" _I_ do." He flashed a shaky half-smile and eyed her hoodie. "And you have never let me down."

"I'll be your hero any time you need one." Mikaela's heart swelled at the compliment. The irony of her Pink Ranger hoodie wasn't lost on her. She smiled back at him with tears in her eyes. "You can be your own hero, too, you know. Just be brave and _try_. Talk to your men, okay?"

The tremors finally ceased. He cupped his hand against her back and released a soft mechanical-sounding sigh.

"I--"

A racket in the corridor sent Optimus sprinting to the door faster than Mikaela could process that he moved. He opened it and peeked out.

"It's all right," he said, "It's just Elita causing a ruckus."

Mikaela's heart sank. Her positioning didn't let her see much out the door. "Uh oh. Gimme a hand?"

Optimus helped her to the floor. She hurried down the hall and into the main cargo area. There, she spotted Elita climbing up a huge-- and thankfully stable-- crate pile. The other Autobots milled around, more or less ignoring her as they chatted among themselves.

Hearing Optimus' name being murmured stopped Mikaela in her tracks. Just long enough for Elita to stand up straight, cup her hands around her mouth and holler at the top of her lungs.

"Hey!"

When the bots didn't respond fast enough, she took her necklace off and held it up. The Matrix of Leadership transformed to its full size in her hand.

"Autobots, I said **_hey!_** "

She stomped on the crate. Its rattling clang rang around the room, silencing everyone.

"I'm a Prime and I'm holding the Matrix! That means you have to listen! Stop talking about my dad like that! Stop it right now! I mean it, stop!"

Crosshairs inclined his head to regard her. "Hey, sugar, what gives?"

"Don't 'sugar' me, Crosshairs. You guys, you're all being stupid! Do you think I don't notice what you're doing because I'm a kid? You're talking about my dad like he's got the plague! I heard what happens to bots when people find out they're sick, and you're doing it. You're doing exactly what he said you were gonna do! He--"

"It is a highly uncomfortable issue," said Drift, who languidly spread his hands to gesture at the gathering. "A grave disturbance in one may unsettle many."

"What's so bad about that?" Elita challenged him. "Huh? What's so bad about that?"

Cade emerged from behind a bulkhead and edged over next to Mikaela. He looked as shocked as she felt.

Hound puffed his cy-gar. "Some scrap is better off on the down-low."

"Why?"

Nobody had an answer.

Elita pointed at Ultra Magnus. "You said you suspected it, and you kept it to yourself."

"Yes, because it was none of my business. Mental illness is a private matter." Ultra Magnus side-eyed the other bots accusingly.

Bumblebee's optics brightened, yet his voice carried a note of worry. "I'm more than willing to help him."

"I know you will, 'Bee." She pointed rudely at the others, "I'm more upset at them!"

"Watch it, kid!" Hound's face plates bristled. He narrowed his optics at her and the cy-gar in his mouth bounced with his words. "It's our business to know when it's our leader."

"Who's compromised," muttered Crosshairs.

"Stasis trauma is one of the worst ways to frag a bot up," Hound went on, "They're ticking time bombs, and it's a countdown 'til their grip on reality slips for good. Then--"

"Shut up!" Elita shrieked at him, "It's not like that at all! You don't know _anything!_ "

Mikaela heard movement in the corridor. She looked back. Optimus leaned on the wall with his arms crossed and his head bowed, listening to every word.

Crosshairs nudged past Drift to regard Elita. "Darlin', a bot with stasis trauma is damaged goods. They break down over the centuries if they don't get treatment. That's the sad truth."

"Fool." Drift clenched his fists and moved away from Crosshairs to stand by Bumblebee. Bumblebee's optics narrowed in a cold scowl at Crosshairs.

"Okay, have you personally met a bot with stasis trauma?" Elita challenged Crosshairs and Hound. "Do you know a bot with it? Have you talked to a bot with it? Have you listened to a bot with it tell you what it's like?"

"Teachers showed us data tracks at the Academy," said Hound. "Bots yelling and acting like they're in a fight with hallucinations. I saw enough. It's sad n' scary stuff."

Crosshairs shrugged his shoulders and guiltily examined his knuckles. He side-eyed Ultra Magnus. Ultra Magnus squinted back at him.

"That's the problem!" Elita set the Matrix between her feet. "You all got this twisted image of what it is, and you don't question it!"

"Just a nanosec--"

"Shush! I'm talking!" She cut Crosshairs off.

"Dad was sick when he sent his hologram back to live with us after he flew away in space. He kept it secret from us for a year because he was scared. He was scared of what mom and me were gonna think of him, and he was scared of what _you_ were gonna think of him. And when he couldn't hide it anymore, we talked about it. Mom and I told him he didn't have to hide anything from us, and do you know what happened? Can you jerks guess?"

Silence. Dead silence with a lot of curious, blinking optics.

Elita planted her hands on her hips.

"It made things easier for him. I asked him what stasis trauma felt like, and he told me everything. I learned about it from him, somebody who actually has it, not a stupid textbook or a video. I told him he didn't have to pretend he's fine around me anymore. I got to see how brave he is. You guys talk about how brave my dad is, and you're right. But he's _way_ braver than you think!

"He gets really depressed. He gets really mad. He has nightmares and he has flashbacks. He gets hyper vigilant and paces around checking windows and doors. He thinks horrible thoughts that he can't control. He's scared a lot. That's just some of it!

"My dad is fighting a war inside his head every second of every day, and he has to pretend he's okay because he's your leader and he knows you look up to him. Pretending he's fine when he's not uses a lot of his energy, but he does it because that's how much he cares about you!

"You all run to him with your problems. He runs to my mom and me with his because we're all he's got. He doesn't have to be a Prime with us."

Anguish rose in her like a physical force that reddened the skin on her face. She clenched her fists and shifted her weight, trying to contain it without screaming at them.

"What kind of friends are you if you ditch my dad the minute you find out he's mentally ill? Huh? You look up to him all your lives, only to run away when he stops being perfect?"

Tears gleamed on Elita's cheeks. She sniffed and pointed towards the corridor. "That's my _dad_ you're talking about. He's my hero and I love him, and I'm not gonna stand here and let you jerks talk like that about him!"

In the corridor, Optimus tensed and looked straight up at the ceiling.

"Aw, don't cry." Crosshairs reached for the crate Elita stood on.

"No! I'm not done talking!" Elita snapped. She grimaced and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"You get scared of mental illness because you like to pretend it can't happen to you, but it can. It can happen to anybody. Good people, bad people, anybody! Nobody chooses it and it's not the person's fault if they get sick, so why do you treat them like it is? Is my dad less of a person because he's sick? Do you think it makes him weak? I've got news for you, it doesn't! Not a bit!"

Now the amused looks being exchanged ceased. The only sounds were Elita's voice and occasional whirring servomechanisms.

"Mentally ill people aren't broken, but their supporters are when they throw them away. That's why mentally ill people feel broken! How're you going to learn about it if you keep it a secret and shut mentally people out of society?"

She jumped up and down, her sneakers banging on the metal crate. "How-- will-- you-- learn?"

Mikaela squared her shoulders, impressed. Elita had her audience captivated. And she kept talking, her smooth voice somehow booming like her father's.

"Stop being all hush-hush! Just stop it! Sit down and _talk_ about it! There's two ways to stop being afraid of something! Face it and understand it, or destroy it. You're not gonna understand stasis trauma if you ignore people who have it instead of talking to them! Do you know what helps destroy them? Not talking! Ignoring! Dismissing! Minimizing! Downplaying! I can keep going! Are you buttheads _listening?_ "

Elita picked up the Matrix and it transformed back into its miniature form. She put it on without tucking the charm under her shirt.

"It's hard to see my dad have a nightmare or a flashback. It's hard to watch him get depressed, shake all over or hear him yell at his horrible thoughts, but I can walk away and not be affected by it. You can walk away and not be affected by it." Her voice dropped low as she jabbed her finger at every bot in the room before gesturing at the corridor, "But my dad is the one going through it, and he _can't_ walk away."

Dead quiet. Everybody was too much in shock to say a word. Nobody moved until Elita sat on the crate and climbed down the metal slats. She hid behind the lowest crate to blow her nose on a wadded tissue from her pocket.

"Did we just get schooled by a _kid?_ " Crosshairs whispered.

"Yup," Hound answered.

Ultra Magnus rubbed the back of his head. "I warned you that she is explosive."

Bumblebee's expression tilted in a smile. He climbed onto the crate Elita hid behind. "Hey."

Her response was too quiet to hear.

Cade ducked his head and slid his hands into his pockets. He looked surprised, too, which made Mikaela even more proud.

Drift didn't say anything. He sat still, resting the point of his sword on the floor and twirling it slowly by the handle.

Mikaela looked up at Optimus in the corridor. Only his optics and hints of his outline were visible in the dark. He quirked a faint smile, and she knew he was proud, too.

The moment broke when Hound slipped behind Drift and cooed in his ear, "So, no haiku for the occasion?"

Drift's optics flashed and his expression went absolutely glacial. He spun his blade once more, hurled Hound to the floor, caught his sword before it stopped spinning and pressed it to the green Autobot's nose.

Snickering, Hound swatted the sword aside. "You're too easy to rile up."

"You seem eager to lose an optic. Fortunately for you, I am not inclined to remove it _this time_." Drift spat back at him. He withdrew his sword and stormed into the corridor, pausing only to offer Optimus a brief salute.

Vibrations rumbled through the ship moments later. A faint downward pull was the only indication of liftoff.

Mikaela glanced at Cade, whose eyes drooped. The man looked about ready to pass out from exhaustion.

"C'mon. I've got camping supplies. Go tell Elita I'm gonna ask Optimus where we can set up camp."

"There's air mattresses," Cade said. "Should we blow 'em up?"

Thirty minutes later, everyone curled up in the crate Optimus turned on its side for them. He placed it in the corner adjacent to the door of armory he'd taken over as his quarters. Nobody risked tripping over anything in that corner, the engine noise was minimal, and the crate's bottom blocked out the lights.

Mikaela and Elita shared an air mattress. Cade got the other one. Optimus peeked in on them as they finished designating their sleeping spots.

"Is Viviane securing the Staff?"

"Mmhmm," Cade yawned. "Drift said we're stopping over England again, so I'll meet up with her in a couple days. Bumblebee is gonna take Elita up to the top of the Tor tomorrow. I might join them unless you guys need me here."

"That's fine. The Tor is one of Elita's 'lifetime bucket list' destinations," said Optimus, his tone light.

"I can't wait," Elita chirped excitedly.

"Are you hoping you'll find Avalon?" he teased.

"A girl can wish, can't she?" She undid her pigtails before she clambered into her sleeping bag and laid down.

Optimus leaned further into the crate. Size differences be-damned, he and Elita gently bumped foreheads, touched noses and exchanged a good night kiss.

"Good night, sweet-Spark. I love you."

"G'night, dad. Love you, too."

Those kind optics fixed on Mikaela next. Uncertainty lurked within their blue glow. She thumbed the corner of his mouth.

"Doing okay?"

"Yes." Optimus nodded solemnly. He tucked his lower lip plate behind the upper one and vented a mechanical sigh. "Just...feeling my age, I suppose."

She crinkled her nose as his 'breath' wafted across her face. "Well, don't worry, you don't _look_ old."

"How fortunate." His tired expression morphed into a smile that softened his metal features. "I love you."

Mikaela kissed his bottom lip plate. "I love you, too, boss bot."

Cade fiddled with his sleeping bag zipper. He offered a wordless salute that was swiftly returned. Optimus' hydraulics hissed as he backed away from the crate.

"What?" Mikaela confronted Cade's stare.

"Wow." He chuckled, shaking his head.

" _What?_ "

"You guys are so _normal_ together."

"Normal is a relative concept." Mikaela stretched out on her stomach. She bunched her travel pillow up with her arms and laid her head on top of it.

He rustled his sleeping bag. "I know. It's giving me the urge to ask questions with 'none of your business' answers."

"Lemme answer the three biggest ones." Elita snorted at both of them, "Yeah, my parents bang like a screen door in a hurricane. Yeah, dad can get off. No, he doesn't have a penis like the fish guy in _The Shape of Water_. Bonus answer, he uses the hologram."

"Shut up, El!" Mikaela's cheeks burned. She wished for every molecule of her being to denature and sink between the metal floor seams. "Oh, my God!"

"Whoa! TMI!" Cade laughed and laid on his back with his hands folded behind his head.

"I saved you from wondering. You're welcome." Elita shot back.

"Geez, kid..."

"Ugh." Mikaela closed her eyes and tried to pretend the previous five minutes didn't happen.

.o

Sleep proved elusive. An hour of Elita's and Cade's quiet breathing finally drove Mikaela off the air mattress. No sense waking them up by wriggling around. She smelled yesterday's clothes to see if they were wearable again. The jeans were okay, but armpits of the halter top and hoodie stank like a gym locker room. Gross.

Mikaela kept her back to Cade while she removed her oversized Disneyland logo nightshirt, sniffed herself and applied fresh deodorant. Not as good as a shower, but better than stinking. She donned an I-don't-care outfit consisting of yesterday's ripped jeans, a tight low-cut charcoal gray T-shirt and a brown fleece hoodie left unzipped. The cold metal floor seared her feet, so she put on black socks and black high-top tennis shoes. Finally, she undid her bubble ponytail, brushed her hair and left it loose after she worked out the tangles.

"Tch, sleeping like babies," Mikaela mused at her slumbering companions.

She stepped outside the crate. A yawn reminded her of the sleep she wasn't getting. She tilted her head back, stretching. The Knight statues caught her eye. All four had ear finials similar to Optimus, and they held their swords blades-down like museum pieces.

Speaking of Optimus, he wasn't anywhere in sight. Mikaela left the armory and padded into the long corridor until she reached the other end. She photographed her path with her phone as a safeguard against getting lost.

The expansive room everybody gathered in earlier was empty. No Autobots anywhere.

Mikaela followed the back wall to the second corridor she saw Drift use. It appeared to circle back to the armory, but that wasn't the case. She discovered steps constructed of rough bar grating leading up towards another platform.

Using the grating like short ladders took a lot of stamina. Mikaela's shoulders and arms burned with the effort, and she almost kissed the solid floor at the top. She rounded the corner to find a ramp. Smooth, perforated metal this time. The holes were hexagon shaped, like mouths hungry for careless human feet. She used the perforations as handholds and footholds and scaled the ramp on all fours. Keeping her eyes on the top prevented her from noticing how terrifyingly high she climbed.

Her exhausting effort rewarded her with an enormous empty chair situated on a distant platform. Its size reminded her of a grand throne fit for kings. The floors consisted of solid panels. No more grates. Whew.

"Can't sleep?" Optimus' voice broke the silence.

Startled, Mikaela spun to face him. He stood at the front end of the platform, which lay opposite to the immense chair. Behind him, a broad opening revealed endless blackness. Jointed strips of metal interrupted the circular hole and its rim. The whole thing appeared able to contract shut like an iris at a moment's notice.

"Yeah." She held her chest while taking a calming breath.

Optimus transformed into vehicle mode. His hologram shimmered into being near his front grill, an invitation to join him. Mikaela avoided the narrow gap in the middle of the platform when she approached him.

"The ship is using your sun's radiation to recharge its fuel cells. It works faster if Earth's atmosphere isn't in the way." Optimus took Mikaela's hand like a gentleman and brought her right up to the opening in the wall. "You're perfectly safe here. The force fields will block the solar radiation."

Earth's glistening blue crescent stretched as far as her eyes saw. Its outer edge blurred where the sky and universe met. Mikaela studied what little she could see and picked out Australia among the clouds.

She asked, "Will Unicron wake up?"

Optimus' deep voice rumbled in her ear, "It is extremely unlikely."

"So where is he? Is he _the_ Earth or just inside it?"

"I don't know. Earth's magnetic field makes it impossible to scan it properly. That may be why human instruments haven't been able to detect him, too."

Her fingers curled. Rage clenched her stomach.

"What if the tectonic plates are his transformation seams?" She huddled against his side and buried her face against his shoulder. "What if he twitched?"

Optimus shifted her back enough to see her eyes.

"Are you all right?"

Mikaela sighed, tapping on his shoulder armor. "Optimus, don't. My problems are tiny compared to the crap you're dealing with right now."

"No issue you face is too inconsequential for me."

"You'll blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. I don't want to make you feel worse." She sniffed.

"Mikaela..." He cupped the back of her head and his optics pleaded with her. "You look how I must have looked on your prom night. I was a hollow shell around a crumbling interior. You offered me refuge. Now, here, I offer you the same."

Pain clutched at her throat as he spoke the truth. Her eyes stung. She blinked quickly, trying to contain a brewing avalanche.

The pleading look in his optics softened into compassion. "Whatever you went through, Mikaela, it pains you enough to matter. If it matters to you, it matters to me, too."

Mikaela turned away. No comfort came from the view of Earth or the stars. Tears skittered free like the little tattletales they were. She cursed under her breath. Spending over a decade with Optimus taught her how to put on a brave face while everything inside was wet tissue paper facing atomic explosions. No wonder he had trouble turning it off. Stiff upper lips were notoriously habitual.

"It's hard." The words tasted heavy on her tongue. She gazed outside, trembling. "You get used to looking tough. You make a habit out of not cracking and convince yourself you're fine because somebody needs you."

"The worst kind of loneliness." His low voice came from behind her.

Nodding, she hugged herself tighter and watched the Earth spin outside. Tears blurred her vision. Her heart was heavy like a neutron star. All the pain in her throat collapsed inward and threatened to pull the rest of her with it.

The grief she saw in Optimus' optics on her prom night foretold this moment. She never imagined experiencing such a visceral understanding of the loss he endured.

Mikaela closed her eyes and thrust one hand out, a blind reach of faith. Optimus' metal fingers interlocked with hers before her arm finished extending.

She let herself remember Elita wailing in terror during the awful earthquake. She let herself see debris-leaden seawater fill the streets of Tranquility. She let herself experience losing the safety her hometown represented.

The grip she had on his hand whitened her knuckles. Her veneer broke down and fell away. She didn't remember starting to cry because it felt like she'd been crying since before time began.

"How did you stand it?" Mikaela choked. "How did you stand _this?_ "

Optimus' hand tightened protectively around hers. "The same way you did."

She surrendered and curled into him. His arms encircled her like armor, giving her the strength to spill out everything between him going into stasis and right now. He didn't interrupt to ask questions or interject his thoughts. Instead, he kissed the top of her head, held her tight and _listened_.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mikaela." Optimus said after she finished talking.

He didn't hang useless platitudes on her tears. She was grateful for that. Not even his superior physical strength could remove the weight on her heart, so he bore it with her. She cried on his shoulder like he cried on hers nearly fifteen years ago, and in doing so she understood how that night made him stronger.

.o

Fog blanketed everything in soft, dreamlike mystery. Mikaela resisted the urge to shiver while Optimus drove across the wet, fragrant grass. He came to a stop when the mist-blurred slope of a hill appeared amid the predawn darkness. Dew sparkled on the grass like treasure.

"This is the base of the Tor," said Optimus.

Damp earth scents surrounded Mikaela as she hopped down onto the spongy grass. Optimus wasn't more than six feet away from her, yet the clanks, whirrs and clicks of his transformation into robot mode sounded light years distant. He straightened like a mythical titan, his glistening form half-obscured by fog and dark.

Elita's enthusiasm for Arthurian legend was contagious. Mikaela's fingertips tingled.

"My tires are likely to damage this landscape." His optics were blue stars floating in the mist. "It's better to walk. The path is exactly the width of my foot."

Mikaela didn't doubt Optimus' abilities. It was the path she worried about.

"Won't your feet make as much of a mess?"

"Not if I tread lightly. That is why I chose the less steep path. It is paved with concrete to protect the hill."

"Okay." She shrugged. "Let's go."

His descending silver face swirled the mist when he knelt to offer his hand. She smiled at him, climbed onto his palm and seated herself.

The trek up the hill took longer than she expected. Optimus stepped lightly, making every effort to put one foot in front of the other on the narrow cement walkway. Partway up, the path narrowed precariously. Darkness and dense fog complicated the journey.

But they made it.

At the top, Optimus set Mikaela down and they walked the rest of the way towards the west face of St. Michael's tower. The stone structure wasn't as huge as pictures made it out to be. Optimus was twenty-eight feet tall, and the tower's topmost parapets extended six feet higher than his ear finials.

Mikaela glanced around. The rest of the world didn't exist here. Space and time seemed damped, unreal.

"How eerie," said Optimus. His expression quirked in a half-smile, "Perhaps we've stumbled onto the fabled Avalon that Elita reads so much about."

Mikaela observed a relief of a woman milking a cow etched in the stone near the large archway. Saint Brigid, was it? She couldn't recall. Some jackass tourist had carved their initials into the rock above it, an intrusive, unwelcome anachronism.

"I betcha El's having a heyday up here," she remarked.

"Mmhmm."

Cold wind whooshed around the tower and through its archways. The fog thickened like ancient breath, leading Mikaela to wonder if Elita's talk about this place wasn't full of chimerical fluff. Didn't Avalon vanish into the mist because people stopped believing in magic?

 _What if?_ Goosebumps prickled the back of her neck at the thought.

She hugged herself as she passed through the tower and leaned on the frame of the east archway. Bumblebee sprawled out in the grass beyond the path's end. His headlights lit the immediate area.

Elita wore the same clothes as yesterday, save she traded her shorts for her black stirrup sweatpants and buttoned her plaid flannel shirt to keep out the cold. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Cade didn't have anything else to change into, so he still had on his grimy once-white long-sleeved shirt and a brown jumpsuit. He tied the jumpsuit sleeves around his waist to make it into pants.

They stood side by side where the paved path ended.

"...so here it is." Cade laid something disk-shaped atop the compass rose.

The disk transfigured into something else, but Cade blocked the view. Elita's eyes widened like saucers.

"That's the real thing?" Her voice resonated through the tower. "Are you totally serious?"

Cade replied at a considerably lower volume. "One hundred percent serious."

"Holy crap." She clasped her hands together behind her back. The Matrix of Leadership necklace glistened on her chest. "Um...can I hold it?"

At Cade's pleased go-ahead gesture, Elita bent over and stiffened with effort. She stepped back and turned halfway. In her hands, a beautiful silver sword almost as long as she was tall. The cross guard bore an ornate wheel cross. Such a weapon could never be forged by mere human hands.

"Oh, my God," Elita's voice cracked. "It's _real_. That means _he_ was real."

"What's real, sweet-Spark?" Optimus emerged from beside the tower and knelt to regard Elita and Cade.

Bumblebee rolled over to better see the goings-on. Cade noticed Mikaela. She put a finger to her mouth to shush him because she didn't want to interrupt her daughter's moment.

Elita peered upward at Optimus. She aimed the blade straight up at the sky. "This is Excalibur. _The_ Excalibur! I-I'm _holding_ Excalibur! I'm holding something King Arthur held!" She sniffled, overcome. "He was real. If King Arthur was real, and if the Staff proves Merlin was real, that means _magic_ is real, too! It's real, dad!"

Bumblebee twitched his door-wings. Cade raised his eyebrows. Elita lowered the sword and squinted at Optimus. The blade twinkled, and it wasn't a reflection. Her necklace glimmered. That wasn't a reflection, either. The same sparkle flashed in her eyes. Also not a reflection.

"Magic can make anything happen, dad. It made _me_ happen."

Cade wiped a hand through his hair. "'Magic' is technology too advanced for our understanding. Show an iPhone to a medieval guy and he'll think it's witchcraft or sorcery because it lights up without a fire."

"You sound like such an adult, Cade." Elita turned Excalibur over in her hands, watching it shimmer. "I'm talking about the magic people stop believing in because they grew up being told it's all pretend stories about things that can't happen. You grow up, you have kids and tell yourself it's time to live in the real world. You go on teaching your kids that, and they teach it to their kids."

She stared him down, determined. "If it's all pretend, why do we keep telling stories about magic, huh? Why do we love Arthurian legends? Why do we make cartoons like _Gargoyles?_ Why do we write books and make movies like _Lord of the Rings_ or _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?_ Is it all escapism, or is there something more in it?"

Cade stood there, one hand on the back of his head and the other on his hip. His eyes shifted towards Mikaela. She smirked, her raised eyebrows daring him to challenge the argument.

He didn't, because he couldn't.

"We're standing on the most magical spot on Earth. Two things can happen here-- something or nothing." Elita faced roughly east and pointed the blade at the horizon. "Dad, what's something you want? Don't say what it is, just believe."

"Why?" asked Optimus.

Sunrise shone dimly in the fog.

"What if Avalon is still in the mist? What if we forgot how to reach it? What if we found it? Guys, throw away the crap you got told about it not being real for one second in your lives! Try it, just once."

Elita grunted and lifted Excalibur vertical again. "Make a wish, dad. I'll wish for it with you!"

Mikaela joined the group when Optimus straightened. He shut his optics and bowed his head. Concentration tightened his metal features. She found herself wishing for whatever he wanted to come true. When Cade inched beside them and closed his eyes, she sensed him doing the same. Bumblebee bent his arms to show his crossed fingers.

Wind gusted across the Tor. Elita stubbornly held Excalibur aloft, waiting.

 _I'm bailing if my kid turns into She-Ra_ , Mikaela humored herself.

Eerie silence fell. Deep within it came echoed shouts, thunderous drumming, wooden clicking and a handmade woodwind instrument twittering a lively tune. Goosebumps broke out on her arms from the power of it.

Dawn's first rays pierced the mist and struck Excalibur's relucent blade. Fog this thick should've obscured the sun, yet it blazed like a fireball climbing towards Excalibur's sharp point. Against it, the silhouettes of several people skipped circles around a dazzling bonfire while waving sticks in the air. Each wore clothes that flowed and bounced with their movements. They shouted as one and paired off to strike their sticks against each other in rhythm. After another shout, they gamboled off in complex yet organized patterns to repeat the gesture with new partners.

The sun ascended beyond Excalibur's scintillating blade. Mikaela noticed the fog swirling. Elita gave a shout that echoed the dancers and swung downward, ending the vision and music in a dazzling streak of brilliance.

Grayness parted as if cleaved down the middle. Pale blue sky appeared overhead. Below, the fog moved off a chunk of Cybertron no bigger than an American city block. Its sole structure, a tall trapezoidal building, rose off the uneven slab. Gleaming silver surfaces were surreally alien against Somerset's verdant background. Was that sitting on Moneybox field the whole time?

Spooked, Bumblebee bolted behind St. Michael's tower. Optimus shielded his optics from the sun's glare. His jaw dropped.

"Does anyone else see that?"

"That big chunk of Cybertron?" Cade pointed down the hill.

"With a building," Mikaela added.

Elita said, "It's beautiful."

"How did it get there?" asked Bumblebee.

Before anyone else said anything, Optimus fired up his ankle rockets and took off. Bumblebee scooted past the tower and transformed. Cade, Elita and Mikaela climbed into the Camaro and endured the bumpiest, most precarious downhill trip in history. Mikaela, who _never_ had trouble with motion sickness, almost lost a year's worth of meals in the back seat. Elita happened to get in the driver's seat for once. She put all her effort into keeping Excalibur's blade from bouncing and nicking Cade. He noticed where the sword was and kept his hands clasped firmly over his crotch. It might've been funny if the ride wasn't so wild.

Reaching the bottom of the Tor took two minutes that seemed like hours. Bumblebee used debris for a ramp to drive onto the alien landscape.

Optimus loitered by the building, motionless. It was the same height as Saint Michael's tower and ten times broader. There were no visible windows, just metal fit together like a giant three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle of hexagon shaped pieces. Double doors formed a crescent seam along the narrow south side.

"What is it?" Mikaela asked as she climbed out with the others close behind. She had a feeling she knew, but she wanted to hear Optimus say it.

"I wished to see my _home_." Optimus' expression shifted between hope, sadness and confusion. "In human terms, this is the home where I grew up."

Bumblebee shifted into robot mode. His footsteps hardly made a sound in the mist still hanging around.

"This is crazy," whispered Cade. He squinted and bared his teeth at the morning glare.

"No." Elita met his eyes as she handed him Excalibur. "It's _magic_." She giggled and jogged towards Optimus. Her long shadow merged into his longer one.

Double doors hissed open when Optimus tapped on two glyphs. He paused at the entrance, inadvertently forcing Mikaela, Elita and Cade to shuffle past his calves.

The interior's size rivaled school gymnasiums. Mikaela found herself on a platform with six triangular steps descending into the trapezoid-shaped living space. The matte silver ceiling was five feet higher than the smooth, thick round beams extending around a central column like umbrella stretchers. Mirrored hexagonal tiles constructed the walls and floor, some outlined by glyphs.

"Classic Simfur architecture." Bumblebee knocked on the doorframe. "I can't remember the last time I saw a classic like th--"

"I'm home." Optimus' voice rose in pitch. Eons dropped off his shoulders in the span of a heartbeat. He slapped his palms together and crouched low. "I'm really _home!_ "

Vibrations shook the platform as he leapt, caught the beam above him with both hands and slid forward. He thrust his legs straight out to catch himself on the column. The square tile under his feet lit up white and a convex ring illuminated the column's topmost point. Reflected light bathed the room in a soft white glow.

He swung along the beams like monkey bars, executed a pull-up and hopped down. His heavy landing rattled the platform.

Mikaela giggled at him reenacting his youth without thinking.

"Nice place, but where's the furniture?" she teased.

"Here." Optimus winked at her, crossed his arms and let himself fall into a sideways 'cool guy' lean against another spot on the central column. His shoulder pushed a triangular tile. Gears clunk-clacked like a pumping shotgun and silver cubes arose from the floor tiles encrusted with glyphs.

Cade peered over the platform's edge. "Mikaela, did he just fl-- whoa!" He darted backwards when a cube extended past the space he just occupied.

Mikaela slow-blinked at Optimus, flirting back. "Yup."

Each cube shifted backwards from its position, followed the contours of the room and transformed into chairs, a table and a footstool.

Bumblebee hopped off the platform without using the steps. "Modern stuff comes out of the walls."

"Orion was old fashioned," said Optimus.

Cade inhaled through his nose and gestured at their surroundings. "Wow. This is...wow!"

"Cool!" Elita leaped onto the newly-formed chair beside the platform. The glyph encrusted arm was as big as the fluffy red sofa back in the cabin.

"Elita, that is the chair Orion sat in whenever he furthered our education or told his wonderful stories." Optimus nudged the table and the two seats behind it with his knee. "Megatron and I sat here and listened. It's also where we had a lot of arguments."

Bumblebee curled up in a golden egg-shaped chair by the far corner. It rested atop a fat, coiled red spring similar to a doorstop. Optimus approached an identical chair situated in the opposite corner. He laid his hand on top, his optics soft with remembering.

"And these chairs are where Orion told Megatron and I to sit when our arguments became far too heated to remain civil."

Optimus seated himself, crossed his arms and put his feet on the wall. Straightening his legs caused the chair to tilt precariously backwards without actually falling. He looked 'up' at Mikaela, Elita and Cade.

"We had to spend ten minutes without speaking to each other, and the wait time restarted if either of us spoke prematurely." A mischievous smile squinted his optics as he creaked his chair by pushing his feet harder against the wall. "So we annoyed each other by creaking our chairs like this."

The chair Bumblebee commandeered emitted a loud, whining squeal. He fluttered his door-wings. "Auditory warfare."

"Exactly."

"Mags would hate that," Elita snickered.

"Oh, yeah." Mikaela said back.

"Mags?" Cade arched a brow at them.

Mikaela clued him in. "Ultra Magnus."

He nodded. "Ah, the guy you showed up with. Okay. Got it."

"Great."

Mikaela sat on the entrance platform, dangled her legs and slid onto the next steps until she reached the bottom. She looked around, studying the Cybertronian glyphs on some of the wall tiles. They had patterns similar to framed pictures people hung up in their houses. Bumblebee tapped the largest one and it pulled vertically apart, revealing a window. Daylight flooded in, making everything shinier.

Cade descended the steps behind Mikaela. He turned a circle, trying to examine everything at once. A look of boyish glee sparkled in his eyes. He jerked his head to whip his hair away from his eyes and grinned.

"I'm an engineer. This is...wow. Brings a whole new meaning to modular homes, doesn't it?"

She followed the ceiling beams all the way to the far wall, where they ended at a panel rather than the wall itself.

"Yeah, sure does."

Elita shimmied off the large chair and clambered towards Optimus. "Where did grandpa Orion put you to bed and kiss you good night?"

 _Grandpa Orion_ , Mikaela barely smothered her amusement.

"I'll show you." Optimus scooped Elita into his hands and hip-checked a white panel on the wall behind him.

Ticking noises shook the floor. Mikaela saw why the ceiling had a seam when half the far wall pulled away from the main room like a drawer. A giant piece of furniture resembling exam tables in doctors' offices unfolded as the ceiling attained a hexagon shape. The top was transparent, letting more light into the otherwise dim space. Walls descended, sectioning the rooms off. One more clunk sounded before the noise and movement ceased.

"Damn," whispered Cade, "Makes our tech look primitive."

"It's a glorified drawer." Mikaela said back, only half-serious.

Optimus set Elita down on the contoured table. Nascent daylight bathed it in whiteness. He perched on its edge the same way he sat on her bed every night. She laid back, testing out the huge table.

"This was where I recharged." His optics softened as he rested his hands flat on either side of her and leaned forward. "And every single night..."

They gently bumped foreheads, touched noses and gave each other a kiss.

"Then he went into the room next door and bid Megatron good night, too." Optimus cocked his head. "We got into too much mischief when we shared a room. Separating us was the only way Orion got any recharge." He straightened and looked up at the sky, simulating a sigh. "Life was so much simpler then."

"It always is when you're a kid," Elita said. "That's why I'm not in a big hurry to grow up."

Sadness tinged the smile he flashed her. "Good. Cherish your youth, Elita. Don't look back on it and wish you did while you had the chance."

She giggled, sitting up and tightening her ponytail. "Don't worry, dad. I've got it covered." Then she pointed to a seam on the wall at the foot of the table. "What's that?"

Optimus swiped the metal strip aside, revealing various objects. One was a colorful abstract sculpture with blocks shaped like Tetris pieces. He placed it next to Elita.

"My old bang puzzle. The pieces lock together when you arrange them properly. It's a sphere when you solve it. Young bots had races to see who solved theirs the fastest."

"Like my Rubik's cube?"

"Exactly." Optimus linked his fingers together and stretched them as if popping his knuckles. "Let's see if I still remember how to do it. I'll go slowly."

Mikaela pressed a hand over her mouth to contain an excited squeal. Hearing him talk about his youth and seeing him relive it were polar opposites. Elita was so much like him in ways she didn't realize.

"Sort the top and bottom rows first. That is the most important strategy for solving this quickly."

Optimus prodded the pieces into two neat rows at the top and bottom, which left several more floating in the middle.

"Kinda reminds me of Tetris," mused Elita.

"The principle is the same. Aha!" Optimus positioned the final piece to achieve a beach ball sized rainbow sphere. He broke it up into a new abstract shape. "Shall I repeat the process at full speed?"

"Heck yeah!"

"All right, sweet-Spark. Don't blink."

To Mikaela's eyes, Optimus grabbed the puzzle and crumpled it like paper. He set the rainbow sphere down and banged his fists on the table to signal its completion, leaving no questions about why they were called bang puzzles.

"Cool!" Elita swatted the puzzle, but it stuck to the table and she couldn't move it by herself.

Cade looked up at Bumblebee. "How are you at those things?"

Optimus lobbed the puzzle at Bumblebee. "Bumblebee, think fast!"

"They are an exercise in frustration," Bumblebee scoffed back. He caught the sphere without turning his head, twirled it on his finger like a basketball and stuck it to the wall. Afterward, he walked away into the main room again, granting Optimus some privacy.

Elita rolled onto her stomach and peered over the table's edge. "What else is in there?"

Optimus ducked beyond sight to look. Metal rattled and clanked while he rummaged about.

"Let me see." Emotion suffused his voice. "Oh. Oh, wow. He's still here!"

He popped up again holding a brown motherboard with six wiry legs, two round clamps near the narrowest end and a tiny blue LED framed by twin springs. It size and shape reminded Mikaela of a pintail skateboard.

His optics softened at the strange knick knack. Whatever it was, it meant a great deal to him.

"Please," Optimus whispered, clutching the item between his hands as if in fervent prayer. He stroked the top with his thumb. The LED flickered. "Come on..."

Suddenly, the motherboard scurried up his arm like a loyal pet.

Optimus' wide-eyed worry became relaxed relief. He chuckled, plucking the critter off his chest plate and setting it on the table. Its LED flashed blue as it skittered circles around Elita.

"Elita...this is Buggy."

"Buggy?" Mikaela arched a brow.

He eyed her, scratching at the back of his neck. "I was younger than Elita when I built and named him."

Cade glanced upward at the bang puzzle still on the wall. "How young?"

"In terms of mentality? Two years old."

"That's a pretty advanced toddler. So you guys don't...?" Cade raised his hand from the floor to his head.

"Only mentally." Amusement twinkled in his optics. "I was physically a month old at the time. Buggy is my oldest personal possession."

"That's so cool, dad! Is he alive?" Elita prodded Buggy's antennae, and they twitched away from her fingers.

"Not like we are, no, but it's easy to imagine that he is. Think of an RC car that is smart enough to drive itself and obey voice commands. Buggy works the same way. He is drawn to light sources...that is why he keeps circling. Light powers him, so he 'prefers' to stay where it's bright. He only breaks the pattern if I command him to come or stay."

Optimus said something in Cybertronian and Buggy zoomed right into his hand. He smiled without trying to disguise his nostalgia and rubbed its back with his thumb. One more Cybertronian word darkened the LED. He opened his chest plate and tucked Buggy inside.

Cade's curious frown relaxed to contentment. "So how old do you peg yourself as right now? In human years, I mean."

"Hm..." Optimus rapped his fingers on the tabletop. "Mid-forties, I suppose. Not quite old, but not quite young, either. I have lived for over ten billion years, and I'll live ten billion more if I'm lucky."

"Wow," Cade mouthed. He looked at Mikaela and gestured at Optimus, awestruck.

She nodded. "Yup. Now scoot over. I want to check this out."

Elita might've inherited Optimus' mannerisms, but she didn't get her nosiness from him.

"Coming through, boss bot. Watch your feet."

"Is it your intention to snoop?" Optimus teased.

Mikaela crossed the room and planted herself squarely between his feet. "You bet."

He chuckled and opened the sliding cabinet door further. "I don't have anything to hide here."

The space held nothing but data tablets, writing styluses, a concave handheld video game device and colored glass bottles of what appeared to be nail polish. She twisted the gold one to see the label better and found a picture of an optic.

Ah, the famous Cybertronian eyelid paint. Optimus' colorful collection rivaled hers!

Behind the bottles was a clear box of applicator wands with sponges on the tips. They came in varying shapes and sizes, like makeup brushes.

She envisioned a very young Optimus dolling himself up to go out and couldn't suppress a snicker. Did he experience an embarrassing what-the-hell-was-I-thinking-when-I-wore-that phase? Because there was a reason _she_ kept all photos of her first attempts at makeup hidden from everyone's sight.

"What's so funny?" Optimus leaned over.

"N-nothing, just..." Mikaela nodded her head towards the colorful bottles, "...wondering if you have any regrets."

He frowned and simulated clearing his throat. "I wore red and white stripes once. Never again. I looked ridiculous. And you?"

Heat rushed into her face. "Green eyeliner and red lipstick. I was eleven. It looked awful."

"Well," He imitated a priest making the sign of the Cross in the air, "I absolve you of your makeup sins."

"Shaddup!" Mikaela playfully swiped at his foot.

"Makeup?" Cade nudged in next to her. "I thought Optimus was, ah, a guy like me."

"Nope. He's not a girl, either. Cybertronians pretty much adopt whatever gender they present as on other planets." She was so used to it now that Cade's confusion seemed foreign. "So if he lands on a planet where qualities we see as masculine are feminine instead, he'll get called a she and it won't change anything." She shrugged. "Keep calling him a he. You're fine."

"Whew!" Cade wiped his forehead and grinned boyishly. "Had me worried there. Thanks for clearing that up."

"No problem. Oops, we're on the move."

"...one more thing I want to show you." Optimus' voice reverberated pleasantly around the room. He gathered Elita into his hands and set her on the floor.

Bumblebee managed to dump himself out of the egg-chair when everyone emerged in the main room. Optimus face-palmed at his silly friend's mishap.

"I never thought it possible to fall out of those."

"I'm pleased to prove you wrong." Bumblebee gleefully offered an emphatic (and upside-down) thumbs up.

Secondhand embarrassment splashed heat in Mikaela's face. Elita laughed and tugged on the bottom of her plaid shirt.

"Geez, 'Bee! Are you okay?" Cade barely contained a rude snort.

"Yes." Bumblebee righted himself.

Optimus typed on the green touch-screen hidden underneath a tile on the central column. Smaragdine light glimmered off his sharpest edges. The furniture transformed back into cubes and folded away as something whirred at the other end of the room.

A mirrored silver pole emerged through an unseen gap in the floor and contacted the ceiling between two decorative beams. The tiles below flipped over, revealing brick red undersides, and rearranged themselves as a large Autobot sigil.

Elita's expression sobered. She gazed at the pole, squinting. "This is _the_ pole where Orion died, isn't it?"

Optimus stepped past the central column, his visage a grim mask. The pole wasn't much wider than the handle of his sword.

"Yes. This is it."

Somberness filled the room, making Mikaela's throat clutch. Optimus didn't talk about the bombing much. From what she gathered through his occasional mutterings or fragments of nightmares, Orion had gripped the pole and revealed Optimus' Prime heritage to him when everything exploded. The shock wave punched the roof downward, crushing and killing him instantly. Optimus survived because he was knocked backwards against the only standing wall, so the main shock wave missed him.

A bomb bigger than the _Tsar Bomba_ flattened three quarters of Simfur that day. Optimus got to watch violet-hot deflagration consume everything around him. Half-melted survivors stumbled and dropped dead among the debris. Bodies piled up everywhere. Energon, coolant, oil, Spark plasma and nanite fluid slicked the streets. All the horror of Hiroshima without the fallout and radiation sickness.

Optimus dug Orion out of their ruined home and bawled over his dead body for _days_.

Mikaela envisioned Tranquility disappearing under surging ocean froth, remembered Ultra Magnus plucking up survivors and thought of how she tried to stop a magnitude nine earthquake with her knees for her daughter's sake.

 _Now I know how helpless Optimus felt_ , she thought glumly. _Elita and Mags got out in one piece. He was all alone_.

"Mikaela, are you all right?" Optimus' voice nudged her pensiveness.

"Sorry?" She shook herself free. "You say something?"

"Yes. Step onto the red tiles."

Everyone else already did. They waited for her with worried faces.

"Right." Embarrassed, Mikaela joined them. "I'm fine, guys."

Optimus felt the pole until his fingers contacted a barely-visible glyph engraved on its shiny surface. His fist closed and he twisted the entire pole a half-turn to his right. The platform descended. It was a quick, smooth ride underground.

Recessed concave fixtures illumed the square space via the four corners. Unlike the level above, the lights here were harsh. Mikaela knew exactly where they were when she saw the marble-like walls, floor and ceiling.

 _"You sure like red." Mikaela said. She took out a red halter top styled much like the bodice of her prom dress and held it up in front of her for Optimus to see. It was the one thing she didn't tell him she was buying, and she did not miss the way he looked twice_.

_"It reminds me of the night we shared. The color suits you." He turned fully towards her, their faces only a few inches apart. "It also reminds me of the first few moments of my life. I came to consciousness in a red room."_

Twin bulging cylinders took up an entire wall. Optimus approached the one on the left and lightly ran his fingertips along the glass.

"This is where I was born. I'm standing where I fell when the energon drained from my chamber." Then he pointed to the wall, "And Megatron landed over there. His feet were pressed against the wall, which put his head right next to mine. We knew nothing beyond each other for the first two minutes of our lives."

Optimus froze at his birthing pod. Mikaela saw his optics focusing on something reflected in the corner behind her. He whipped around, wide-eyed, and rushed towards the oblong structure. Two Cybertronian glyphs and an ultramarine gem adorned the gunmetal gray top.

"No, no...please, no..." Optimus murmured as he pushed the gem. Like the other rooms one level up, the contents of the container emerged from the side.

The bot lying inside reclined on his back and had his hands clasped on his stomach. Mikaela identified closed optics, blue brow ridges, triangular silver plates forming a rudimentary nose and cheeks, and a delicate mouth hanging ajar.

Orion Pax resembled a sculpture painstakingly assembled by a loving creator. Pale blue coloring limned his helm and lower legs. His chest consisted of two ornate red plates held together by a silver piece sculpted into an Autobot symbol, and his dark blue hands had long, rounded fingers. They were gentle, loving hands, and looking beyond them explained their permanent stillness. Everything except his upper chest, left leg and right foot were flat like a hot press stamped his body.

Wiper fluid tears welled on Optimus' eyelids. He placed his shaking hand on the bot's chest and gently lifted the triangular piece of armor up.

Darkness. No Spark.

The tears spilled onto Orion's cheeks as if he cried them.

"No!" Optimus' face contorted. He grabbed his forehead and squeezed his optics shut. "No, no, no...this isn't fair!"

A lump clutched Mikaela's throat. For his sake, she hoped Orion would wake up, too.

But he didn't.

Cade soberly nodded towards the opposite end of the room. His eyes stayed downcast.

"C'mon. Let's give Optimus a minute."

The manner in how he said it suggested painful personal experience. He padded towards the pods, pointedly _not_ looking at Optimus.

Mikaela and Bumblebee followed. Bumblebee's door wings sagged sadly. But Elita broke away from them, her sparkly sneakers squeaking on the floor.

"Dad! Wait! The Matrix!" She tugged at her necklace. "You can--"

Optimus held his hand palm-out.

"No." He grimaced, turning towards the coffin again. "I won't. I can't."

"But you miss him."

"Yes, with all my Spark."

Elita rubbed her eyes, ignoring Mikaela hissing at her to back off.

"That's a good enough reason, isn't it?" She gestured wildly. "C'mon, dad!"

Optimus pinched the bridge of his nose and simulated a sigh. The tears clinging to his eyelids dribbled onto his face, their journey highlighted by the harsh light beside him. He wiped them off in two quick swipes and clenched his fists. Elita's ill-timed posturing angered him, yet, as always, he maintained his patience.

"Elita, it won't be fair to _him_. The Matrix does not heal wounds. His Spark chamber is crushed, it can't sustain a Spark. And even if it could, I will revive him to his worst fear-- our dead world and another world caught in the war against the Decepticons. As much as I want to hear his voice again...as much as I need his wisdom...I can't. I can't hurt him that way."

"But, dad--"

" _No_." The word boomed through the room like thunder. "To revive Orion is to violate everything Primes stand for."

She faltered, lips quivering. "You said Primes stand for freedom, justice and peace."

"I know, sweet-Spark." His expression quirked in a brief, sad smile. The cold edge left his voice, replaced by forgiving warmth. "But I will be taking freedom, justice and peace away from Orion if I revive him now. The hardest part about being a Prime is the decisions we must make."

"Like launching the Cube?"

Optimus nodded slowly, his optics downcast.

Now Elita understood his reasoning. She relaxed, the indignant sneer leaving her young face.

"Sorry, dad."

"You're a Prime. It's understandable." He fixed her in his gaze, his features softened by tenderness. "Never be afraid to speak up in the face of injustice, Elita, but make sure you allow others to share their perspectives, too."

Elita nodded without a word. She backed away from him and headed towards Bumblebee.

Mikaela didn't mean to watch Optimus' reflection in the birthing pod, yet she couldn't ignore it. He leaned into the coffin, murmuring in Cybertronian as he went through the same good night motions he did with Elita. She dropped her gaze to the floor and swallowed past the lump in her throat. Some of what he said included phrases she recognized-- things like _thank you_ , and _I'm sorry_.

And then, abruptly, he clenched his fists and surrendered. His screechy, wheezy groans had a rhythm like breathing that emerged from a deep maelstrom of grief.

"Dad," Elita whispered.

"Let him be," Mikaela said. "He needs to get this out."

"I didn't know they could cry." Cade swiped his sleeve across his eyes, cleared his throat and sniffed. His voice stayed unobtrusively quiet. "I never thought I'd see _him_ cry."

Bumblebee rested a hand on Optimus' shoulder, but didn't look at him. The gesture respected his privacy without leaving him lonely. Optimus cupped his hand over Bumblebee's. They exchanged an understanding glance.

Like all storms, his tears peaked and slowed until there were no more to shed.

"We are in the only room that survived the bombing. Orion might have lived if I waited until we came down here to ask questions about my heritage."

"Whoa, Optimus," Cade's brow furrowed. "Nobody saw that bomb coming. Your daddy's death wasn't your fault. It was bad luck with bad timing."

Optimus hung his head. Wiper fluid ran along the undersides of his face plates and emerged through his nose vents, giving the impression of a runny nose. A sideways swipe with his finger wiped it away.

"I was kneeling over Orion like this when a voice spoke to me in the language of the Primes. I understood it. It was intrinsic, I never had to learn it. The voice asked me if I knew who I was."

He gazed upward at the corner above Orion's head. "And when I looked up, just like this...there stood Sentinel Prime. I told Sentinel that I didn't know who I was or who he was."

His optics dimmed when he blinked. "I will never forget Sentinel's words. 'Fortunately for you, I can answer both. This is the past, you don't live here anymore. Here is your future.' He offered me his hand when he said that. I remember staring at it for ages. I was still processing the end of the life I knew, and I didn't know where to go from there."

"And...?" Elita beckoned him to keep talking.

"I laid Orion's body down and grasped Sentinel's hand in both of mine. He pulled me to my feet, and I threw my arms around him. I was...I was distraught. He held me against his chest and walked me away from my ruined home. The rest, as you say, is history."

Optimus squared his shoulders. He kissed Orions brow, closed the coffin and laid his hand flat on top. "Sentinel was right. This is the past. I don't live here anymore. It's time to move forward."

Cybertron covered the sun when everybody emerged outside again. Bumblebee offered to take Elita, Mikaela and Cade back to the ship. Cade accepted, but Elita and Mikaela declined.

"We'll come back with Optimus," Mikaela said.

"Okay. See you later." Cade offered a salute and climbed into Bumblebee without preamble. The Camaro zoomed off the Cybertronian ground and vanished in the patchy fog still hanging around the base of the Tor.

"Dad?" Elita hedged.

Optimus faced the building that used to be his home. "Feel free to explore the area. I will join you in a few minutes."

He wanted one more look at his old home. A feeling Mikaela understood too well. She nudged Elita towards the north half of the giant hill. Patchy fog blurred and concealed its summit.

They picked their way through grassy farmland. Cybertronian debris littered the landscape like anachronisms. Someone nestled a black military jeep between a fallen metal pillar and the foliage.

Mikaela's senses jumped to alert. She completely forgot about watching for TRF in all the chaos!

The jeep's owner stood with his back to them while he peed in the grass. He wore black military gear, wraparound Oakley sunglasses and had a Bushmaster ACR rifle strapped to his back. A triangular TRF patch shone prominently on his jacket sleeve.

"Shit," Mikaela hissed, "El, let's head back to Optimus."

Elita spotted the man, too. "Oh, crap."

They spun away and ran for it. He noticed them.

"...positive visual on civilians. Moving to intercept and rescue."

Static crackled.

"Copy that, Lennox out."

"Stop! I'm human, I'm friendly!" The man shouted.

 _Like hell you are_. Mikaela's feet pounded the grass harder. Beside her, Elita tilted her upper body forward and pulled slightly ahead.

But the man ran faster. His footsteps plodded up behind them. Strong, callused hands seized Mikaela and Elita by the arms.

"What the hell are you ladies doing here? This ain't a tourist attraction! It's infested with-- oh! What the hell? It's _you_ guys. Well, well, well...this got interesting."

Now the voice and square cleft chin registered.

"Max!" Mikaela gasped. "Just who I didn't need right now."

"You're TRF?" Elita tensed her bicep. "Get off me! TRF sucks!"

"Nice to see you, too!" Max yanked Mikaela close again and dragged Elita when she tried to plant her feet. "What's you and your kid's story, Mikaela Banes-Prime? How come you turn up with your Transformer sympathizer stuff whenever they trash something else? What do you know about 'em?"

Mikaela slapped the sunglasses off his face.

"Nothing!" She lied, "Let go of my kid! Get your fucking hands off me!"

"Nothing? What's with the necklace?"

Glittering silver caught Mikaela's eye. Elita hadn't tucked the Matrix of Leadership pendant under her shirt. It was there, swinging and obvious.

Snarling, Mikaela twisted and punched him. The uncoordinated blow struck his collarbone instead of his face like she hoped.

"Tch, you can't throw a punch, lady!" Max's eyes hardened. They were brown, like coffee. "There's something fishy here, and I'm going get answers." He tugged Elita's arm. "I don't want to have to hurt you to get results, so how about you cooperate?"

"No!" Elita wrenched his thumb backwards with all her might. She broke his hold and wriggled free.

"Run, El!" Mikaela raised her arm higher in attempt to force his hand open.

"Damn it!" Max lunged and caught her from behind. Both his arms pinned hers at her sides. Her own elbows dug into her ribs. She shrieked involuntarily.

"You're coming with me!" He turned her towards the jeep.

"Mom!" Elita yelled.

Mikaela threw her weight to the left, swung her right forearm backwards past her hip and grasped Max's crotch. She clamped her fingers around his testicles and pulled forward like she intended to tear them through his fatigues.

Max yelped a curse. His arms faltered to grab his crotch. Mikaela spun free. She telegraphed him with a haymaker. The blow twisted his head to the side. He stumbled onto his knees, his gasping mouth hanging open. She threw an uppercut. Her fist slammed his mouth shut. His teeth crashed together. Crimson blood stained his stubbly cleft chin. He spat a molar onto his palm stared at it in shock.

"I can't throw a punch, huh?" Mikaela snapped, rubbing her knuckles. That actually hurt. She seized Elita's hand and they dashed beyond his reach. "El, I told you to run!"

Elita clung to her hand. She'd tucked the Matrix pendant under her shirt again. "You kicked his butt!"

Rage gave Max the strength to rise on shaking legs and hobble forward. He wiped his mouth, which smeared the blood on his chin.

"You're kidding, right?" Max coughed and spat. He stopped holding his crotch and straightened. "They're controlling your brain! They did it to that 'Wickety' guy you went to school with, too! He was in Mission City, Egypt and Chicago, and Transformers showed up wherever he was! He disappeared after Chicago, only to turn up in a hospital in Hong Kong where-- you guessed it-- Transformers were tearing everything up! They're getting in peoples' brains!"

The amount of knowledge Max had was terrifying.

Mikaela pushed Elita to keep running and rounded on him, breathless. "Nobody's mind controlling anybody! You've got some twisted views on Cybertronians, Max!"

Rather than answer, Max snatched a large rock and threw it in Elita's path. She tripped and fell hard. He galloped after her.

"No, you don't!" Mikaela grabbed his rifle to drag him off his feet as he passed.

Instead, he whirled and swung his arm. Sharp pain lashed the left side of her head. She hit the grass shoulder-first. He was a southpaw. Damn.

"Hey!" Elita yelled, "Ow! You jerk! Stop it! _Ow!_ "

Mikaela pushed her hair off her face and rolled onto her stomach. Max had Elita pinned under his body. His hands clamped onto her shoulders, his knees pressed her wrists against the grass and his shins held her thighs down. He outweighed her by at least two hundred pounds.

"Don't--" She coughed when his hands went for her throat.

"Max!" Mikaela staggered towards him.

"Stay back, lady! I'll snap this brat's neck!"

Elita pulled in a breath and screamed, " ** _DAD!_** "

The mist swirled.

"I'm coming, Elita!" Optimus shouted from far off.

Seconds later, a red, silver and blue Western Star burst through the fog. Max sat halfway up when he saw the truck. He kept one hand latched on Elita's throat. Contempt twisted his lips.

The truck halted several feet away and shifted its form. Optimus loomed like a glimmering shadow. St. Michael's tower drifted in and out of the gray gloom above him.

"I was right! I was fucking right!" Max wrapped both hands around Elita's neck again. "You're mind controlling people to make them think you're humanity's friend! Nobody in their right mind is gonna sympathize with you overgrown tinker toys!"

Optimus' face assumed a glacial expression. Mikaela felt rather than heard his deep, metallic growl.

Elita utilized the distraction to slam her palms straight into Max's face. He rocked backwards, holding his right eye. She backhanded the left side of his throat. Right over his carotid artery. That made him falter. She squirmed out from under him. He recovered and caught her ankle before she fully extricated herself.

Mikaela's stomach knotted. She clenched her teeth and took a running step forward, every cell in her body ready to rip Maxwell Pagonis apart. Optimus halted her by holding out his hand.

Max laughed when he saw that. "What? Don't speak English? Figures!"

"I speak English fine." Optimus planted his feet beside Max, scowling. "You have ten seconds to let go of my daughter, or I will _make_ you release her."

Elita kicked her captured leg. Max twisted her ankle as a warning.

"You don't have the balls, robot!"

The corners of Optimus' mouth curled downward. He stepped on Max's outstretched arm, snapping it like a twig. Mikaela almost gagged at the sound.

Max howled with a bloodstained mouth. Elita escaped his limp fingers and stumbled towards Mikaela.

"AAAH! Y-You broke my arm!" Max's voice rose in pitch as the pain hit full blast. "You b-broke my fuckin' arm!"

"I said I would." Optimus said. He ignored Max's confused expression and focused on Elita. "Elita, did he injure you?"

"Nothing major." Elita patted herself down and tested all her joints.

His gaze shifted to Mikaela. "Mikaela, are you injured?"

Mikaela rubbed her sore head. She sneered hatefully at Max. "Just a bruise. He backhanded me."

Elita rubbed her throat and choked back tears. Her ponytail was a tangled, grassy mess. Mikaela hugged her close, ignoring the throb of her own head.

Optimus narrowed his optics and nodded. He shifted his weight off Max's ruined arm. The broken limb resembled an empty sleeve.

Everybody was safe now. Optimus pinched the back of Max's TRF uniform jacket and dangled him at optic level.

"How dare you lay hands on my family, _human!_ "

"How dare you trash my planet, _Transformer!_ " Max snapped. He clutched his broken arm. Tremors in his voice gave away his trepidation. "So, w-what's it going to be? Eye lasers? Death ray from the mouth? Squishing me in your fist? Go on, crazy robot. Do it. Prove what you are!"

The barbs hit home, but Optimus didn't bite the bait. Instead, he sneered and dropped Max butt-first on a cowpat.

"Human, you have a very incorrect idea of who I am and what I do."

Disgust twisted Max's handsome features. He licked at the blood crusted on his lower lip and winced as he got back to his feet. Cow dung coated his entire lower half.

"I have a question for you, Max. Yeah, I know what your name is." Optimus remained in a kneeling position. "Do you recognize my voice?"

Mikaela saw Max glance over at her and Elita. His eyes widened when he connected the dots.

"Shit! The picnic! How--"

"Human holograms are easy."

Max blinked, his gaze flicking to Elita and Mikaela again. "So they're holograms, too?"

"No. Leave them out of this." Optimus pressed his hands flat on either side of Max. Sunlight pierced the mist and gleamed off his blue helm. "The picnic wasn't our first meeting, Max. Do you know where else I was?"

Confusion knit Max's brow. "Huh?"

"Think about it."

"No...I-- don't--"

"Think _harder_."

"I am! I-I don't know!"

Wrong answer. A very wrong answer. Optimus' fists clenched, his fingertips digging muddy brown trenches in the green grass. His optics blazed, yet his voice remained controlled and cool.

"Here is a hint-- the movie theater. Here is another hint-- the crowbar."

That clicked.

"Th-that was you?" Max gasped, his mouth flopping open. His already pale face grew paler. "Look, um-- I-I-I... didn't mean any-- anything personal! I was doing my job!"

"By jamming a crowbar into my Spark chamber? By putting your filthy hands on it?" Shadows crossed Optimus' face. "If it wasn't personal, why did you say I had to pay? Why did you laugh? Why did you hope it hurt? How is that doing your job?"

Mikaela curled her toes inside her shoes. Optimus never mentioned those details before. Elita rounded on her, wide-eyed, and received a nod in response.

"You asshole!" She almost launched herself at Max, her fists swinging. Mikaela had to bodily haul her back.

"No, El! Optimus is handling this!"

Elita flailed, her face flushing. "He hurt dad! He's gotta pay!"

"Let Optimus deal with it!"

"Mom!"

" _Hush!_ "

Max didn't register Elita's yelling. He gulped and stared up at Optimus. His bravery might have been believable if his voice didn't sound so strained.

"Fine! You bastard...I had family in Chicago! They're dead because of you and your kind! You're a menace!"

"The loss of your family is unfortunate. It isn't what I wanted. Has it occurred to you yet that my people are embroiled in a war longer than your lifetime? I came here to prevent--"

"Oh, fuck you! _Fuck_ you! You call this prevention?" Max nodded his head at the Cybertronian debris by his jeep. Anger gave his bravado a second wind. "I should've killed you when I had the ch-- ow!"

He held tighter to his broken arm. "I changed my mind! I'm sorry that I didn't off you when I had the chance! I had your sparkler chamber, or whatever the hell you called it-- I had it right there in my hands!"

Optimus' outer pupils dilated to their widest aperture. Steam escaped his nose. There was a lot because of the cold morning air.

"Yes, you did. You _violated_ me." He snarled, his deep voice rising to a thunderous roar. "You took my peace of mind from me! You put me through _hell!_ "

"Good!" Max shouted, "You deserve it!"

Rage tensed the back of Mikaela's neck. She swallowed, gritting her teeth. Elita didn't bother holding her thoughts back.

"You **_ASSHOLE!_** " she screamed.

Optimus tucked his top lip plate behind the bottom one and bent closer. Max had to look straight up at him to maintain eye contact.

"Nobody deserves _sexual assault_ , you insufferable human! Nobody deserves such a violation to their _soul!_ "

"I didn't--"

"This," Optimus banged his fist against his chest, "is the same as that." He gestured vaguely between Max's legs. "And you mutilated it." His voice dropped to an icy whisper, "So I will say it again. You violated me while I was injured and unable to fight back."

Max's bravery faltered again once the implication sank in. He retched and staggered backwards into the cowpat. Manure coated his boots along with his pants. Did it stain his pride? Mikaela hoped so.

Optimus dug his fingers in the grass again. "Then you assaulted my wife and my daughter."

He narrowed his optics as steam once again wafted through his nose vents. "I find it fascinating that you're happy to dominate when circumstances allow it, yet you tremble in fear when addressed by someone capable of overpowering you. You're passing that on to your son. Why?"

Max ignored the question. "I can't stop you from squashing me. W-what's stopping you from killing me right now?"

"My ability to crush you without effort is exactly the reason why I don't _want_ to." Optimus scowled at him. "I don't enjoy abusing power."

Piece by piece, he dismantled Maxwell Pagonis' supercilious personality to reveal the scared person hidden inside. Max grimaced, his lips trembling. Removing his ability to dominate the situation took all his power away. He was just a man, small and helpless.

Max looked at Elita and Mikaela for sympathy. His brown eyes were saucers, pleading.

Mikaela bristled when she recalled the pain she saw Optimus endure. Every nightmare, every panic attack, every rage attack, every flashback, every episode of depression, every notebook contradicting intrusive thoughts and every bout of anxiousness ripped across her mind.

It all was caused by the man standing ankle-deep in cow shit. She didn't think he deserved the mercy Optimus intended to grant him, so she showed none of her own.

"Oh, now you want us to feel sorry for you?" She jabbed an accusing finger at Max like a sword stabbing her words into his flesh. "You ruined his life, and you think you're the victim? That's bullshit, Max! _Bullshit!_ "

The knot twisting her stomach contracted further. Her face heated and her voice reached a crescendo as years of pent-up rage spilled free.

"You're a piece of shit! Do you hear me? Yeah! You're trash! You're shit! You're less than shit, Max! You're _nothing!_ I hate you! I fucking **_hate_** you! Fuck you, Max!" She screamed, " ** _FUCK YOU!_** "

"You hurt my dad, you choked me out and now I'm supposed to feel _bad_ for you?" Elita curled her lip and raised both her middle fingers at him. "As if! Suck it, douchebag!"

Defeated, Max hung his head and clung to his broken arm.

The sun passed behind Cybertron's shadow. Thinning fog swept across the Tor.

Optimus relaxed his clenched fists. "TRF will no doubt disband after today. It's over, and I hope you remember this moment for the rest of your life."

He pointed west. Grass and mud dripped off his fingers. Steam billowed from his nose vents when he spoke. "Go home to your family, Maxwell Pagonis, and never come near _my_ family again."

Max nodded like a kid caught shoplifting, and shoplifting kids weren't that threatening. He held himself perfectly still, his eyes riveted on his feet.

Optimus backed off. A shudder ran through his frame when he wiped his muddy hands clean on the wet grass. Thick white vapor curled out of his throat in short puffs. He ran his palm over the top of his head and ground his mouth plates together. That was harder on him than he let on.

Mikaela gave him a thumbs up for handling that like a boss. Exhaustion dimmed his optics. He nodded and flashed a faint smile.

"I hate you!" Elita yelled at Max. She stomped several feet away to calm herself down.

Optimus faced the Tor to collect himself. Puffs of steam continued to rise intermittently from his vents.

Movement in the periphery! Mikaela swung her head leftward to see Max heft his rifle one-handed.

"You're not getting the last word!" He roared, his eyes wild. "Say goodbye to your bratty kid!"

" ** _NO!_** " Elita let out a blood curdling shriek.

Mikaela's ears rang with adrenaline. Her sight tunneled. The universe slowed down around her. Blood thundered against her skull in time with her heartbeat. Every muscle coiled. Strength surged down her spine. There was no thought or reason. All regard for her own safety vanished. She screamed as she sprinted forward.

The bang turned her vision white. Her arms caught something solid. She fell through time and space. Sounds muffled, like plunging underwater. Reality stood still. Purple phosphenes clouded her vision. Her tingling skin went numb.

"Mom!" Hands shook her shoulders. A girl's voice shouted, "Mom, mom!"

Breath whooshed through Mikaela's nostrils. Breath! _Her_ breath! The air smelled coppery. Heat dissipated against her skin. Shivers wracked her sweaty body. There was no pain.

The blood stopped roaring in her ears. Her vision crystallized into fog, green grass, Optimus' huge feet and Elita's stricken expression. She was laying on top of her. Grass clung to her hoodie sleeves.

Nothing felt real. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Her breathing slowed when she touched her chest, sides and stomach. No blood or bullet wounds. Her eyes moved to Elita. No bleeding holes on her, either.

"I'm okay, mom," said Elita. She smiled, teary-eyed. "You tackle like a linebacker."

"Sorry, sweetie." Mikaela croaked past the brewing lump in her throat. She hugged Elita tight, kissed her cheek and sobbed in relief.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God..." Every muscle inside her body quivered like gelatin.

She looked up at Optimus, who stood protectively over them with his still-glowing blaster at his side. Near his feet, Max's headless body twitched until it lay still in a puddle of lumpy blood.

"No..." Optimus' narrowed optics widened. "I didn't intend to--"

"He wanted to shoot me!" Elita called out, "You gave him a chance! He wasted it!"

"No, no, I-I told him! I told him I would not--"

Thicker steam poured through Optimus' vents, even the tiny ones by his ankles. He staggered several steps away. Tremors bowed his legs out from under him. Elita jogged towards him as he caught himself on his hands and knees. He grimaced, holding his head in one hand. Steam washed backwards into his vents like a back draft. His outer pupils closed to their smallest aperture and flashed nearly white. A mechanical groan rasped in his throat.

"Optimus!" Mikaela hurried forward alongside Elita. "What's wrong?"

Optimus threw his gun aside. He slammed his palms against the side of his head and bellowed something about pain in Cybertronian. The awful metallic sound stopped Mikaela in her tracks. Elita sped up, panting.

"Dad! How can we help? Dad!"

Terror contorted Optimus' expression. He covered his face and tumbled onto his side. Bright green coolant sprayed out of his mouth. Violent tensor contractions bent him into a fetal position. He stopped moving, a frozen event horizon afterimage showing its last glimmer.

Elita caught herself on Optimus' ear finials and yelled directly in his audio, "Dad! Say something!" She pushed ineffectively at his head. "Dad! Dad!"

Mikaela skidded to a stop by Optimus' knees. He smelled strongly of ozone. Shouting at him wasn't going to solve this.

"Hang in there, Optimus, I'm calling for help."

She whipped out her cell phone and dialed Ultra Magnus' frequency with shaking fingers.

"Not the best timing, Mikaela." Static laced Ultra Magnus' tired voice.

"Hi, yeah, not sorry. This can't wait. Optimus just had some kind of seizure." She coughed because of her scratchy throat. "I think it's the stasis trauma. He's not responding to anything."

Ultra Magnus' huskiness vanished. "Oh, slag! I'll have Drift call you immediately. He knows more about the condition than I do. Crosshairs, you-- oof!"

Crosshairs' voice cut in from close by. "Ahh, Maggie, what's the problem?"

"It's--"

Ultra Magnus hung up before he finished his answer.

Mikaela bit her tongue to bring moisture back to her mouth. She stuck her fingers into her hair and rubbed at her scalp. There was a sore bump where Max punched her.

Behind her, Elita tried in vain to pull one of Optimus' hands off his face. Her effortful grunts broke off into quiet panting. She leaned against his knuckles instead. A light breeze ruffled her messy ponytail.

"Daddy," she sniffled. "I'm here, dad. I love you. Mom's getting help. You'll be okay."

Finally, Drift called! Mikaela picked up and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Drift!"

"Tell me what happened," Drift replied without preamble.

She kept her voice calm enough to relay the information. "Optimus collapsed. He was having a panic attack. He spit up coolant. Now he's unresponsive. This isn't the usual."

"Is he emitting steam?"

"He was, but he inhaled it and hasn't let it back out."

"Hm. Noted. Do you have a clear view of his optics?"

"No. He covered his face when he fell. Elita can't get his hands to move."

"Wait for me. I will come to your location. Maintain a safe distance of at least six feet. You will sustain severe burns if he ex-vents."

Click. Just like that.

"El, come here."

"Mom, I can't leave him like this!"

"You're too close to his neck vents. Drift said you'll get burned if he exhales. Back up."

Elita slid off Optimus and reluctantly joined Mikaela. Bits of muddy grass clung to her sparkly sneakers. She wiped them off.

Bumblebee arrived first. Drift must have contacted him. The yellow Camaro zoomed past the Tor like a bat out of hell. He narrowly missed running over Max's corpse.

Cade took a tumble when Bumblebee transformed mid-skid and came up kneeling by Optimus' head.

"Whoa!" Cade scrambled towards Mikaela and Elita. "What's going on?"

Elita filled him in on Optimus' and Max's encounter while Mikaela watched the activity by the Tor.

Bumblebee pried Optimus' hands an inch away from his face. Optimus' optics twitched side to side and flickered at a speed Mikaela hadn't seen before.

"Positive for flicker and rapid optic movement," said Bumblebee. His attempts to straighten Optimus' limbs failed. He added, "He is locked up and rigid."

"What's happening?" Mikaela demanded, "Bee, talk to me!"

"Drift won't speculate until he sees Optimus for himself."

Fortunately, Mikaela didn't have to wait any longer. A red and black Mercedes AMG GT R emerged into the sunlight followed by a white International Lonestar hauling a silver flatbed trailer.

Ultra Magnus stayed in vehicle mode. Drift transformed and knelt beside Optimus. He ran the same checks Bumblebee did, save for placing his audio near Optimus' head. His stoic expression revealed nothing.

"Mom, is dad okay?" Elita's quivering voice cut through the madness.

"I don't know, sweetie." Mikaela licked her dry lips. "Drift?"

Drift turned to her. "What transpired before he entered this state?"

"We had a scuffle with the man who caused his stasis trauma. His name was Max, and--"

Elita butted in, "I saw the whole thing! Max pulled his rifle on us and was gonna shoot me. Mom tackled me. Dad got between Max and us and his blaster went off. He didn't aim, it looked like a reflex, and Max was in the line of fire. It wasn't on purpose! Dad was going into a panic attack after giving Max a chance to walk away, and it got worse after he realized he killed him. Now he's like this. What's wrong with him?"

Drift's eyelids fell half shut. "Stasis catatonia. A panic episode at its most extreme."

"What does that mean?" asked Mikaela. "Can he hear us? Is he aware? Is he in pain?"

"He is conscious. _Aware_ is not the word I would use." Drift frowned, evidenced by a change in the shape of his optics.

"To borrow terminology you use for computing, his CPU is thrashing between a series of flashbacks, and the thrashing is utilizing resources normally allotted to perception and awareness. He is currently incapable of processing anything taking place around him. This condition is reversible, but I am unable to do so here. He must be transported back to the ship."

"He's putting off a lot of heat." Cade noted with a frown. "This won't kill him, will it?"

Drift averted his gaze, and in that moment it was clear he cared deeply about the well-being of his leader. "No."

Elita turned away, her eyes puffy and red. Drift touched a switch on the flatbed behind Ultra Magnus. It unfolded into a silver hovering stretcher.

 _I'm getting real tired of your shit, universe_ , Mikaela thought as she hugged Elita close.

Bumblebee and Drift gingerly lifted Optimus onto the stretcher. He was stiff like a statue. Blue LED's lit up around the stretcher's edge, causing his body to stick.

Black smoke shot from Optimus' neck vents when he was moved. Mikaela felt the heat from ten feet away. The smoke turned white before ceasing.

"Damn," Cade wiped at his eyes. "First time he woke up in my barn, he was screaming and scared. He thought I was the guy who tried to kill him. I talked him down, but...wow, he was _scared_." He faced Mikaela, "What's stasis trauma? Is it robot PTSD or something?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what it is," said Mikaela. She sighed and hung her head.

Bumblebee and Drift transformed. Drift followed Ultra Magnus away. Elita started to cry in earnest. The kind of crying comforting words couldn't resolve.

Mikaela stroked her frightened daughter's hair as she headed towards Bumblebee. She nudged Elita into his back seat, got in next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Cade took the front seat. He twisted around to regard Elita and Mikaela.

"Hey, Autobots are tough. They'll have Optimus up and running again in no time."

"I hope so," Elita sniffled.

Cade's nostrils flared and he lowered his eyes. Bumblebee's engine vibrated. He fell in line behind the other Autobots. Mikaela smoothed Elita's messy hair and looked out the rear window. The eerie mist surrounding the Glastonbury Tor finished clearing away.

Moneybox field was green, dewy, and _empty_.


	3. A Posteriori

**Stories Tell Us**

Part III: _A Posteriori_

.o

.o

Nobody said a word when the Autobot ship came into view. Mikaela kissed the top of Elita's head. Elita kept her face hidden, so she didn't see Crosshairs salute or Hound take his helmet off and hold it against his chest during their journey up the ramp.

Mikaela fumed at seeing them behave as if Optimus died, but she didn't have time to call them out for it.

Drift transformed and utilized an elevator in the floor that Mikaela hadn't noticed before. The platform hissed and descended into a medical bay. He padded through a narrow doorway and opted to lay the stretcher on the floor rather than wrangle Optimus onto the exam table by the wall.

Matte gray finish coated every surface except the ceiling in the 'small' side room. Recessed light strips illuminated the space in a way that warded off shadows without creating glare. The floor plates had non-skid surfaces that looked like metal stucco.

Medical accoutrements were scattered about. Some protruded off the walls. The items stored on the shelves and in cubicles reminded her of larger, more threatening versions of auto repair shop tools.

Bumblebee achieved robot mode after letting Elita, Mikaela and Cade out. Ultra Magnus transformed last. He lingered at the door with Hound and Crosshairs while Drift knelt beside the stretcher.

An oscilloscope on the wall switched online. Mikaela wasn't super keen on reading them, but she knew a high frequency when she saw one.

"I am going to induce a processor reboot. Shutting his processor down will end the flashback cycle. He may awaken in a panic state, so be prepared."

Drift snatched a pair of round, black paddles off the wall next to the oscilloscope. He placed them over Optimus' audio covers. Optimus went limp within seconds. His darkened optics slid shut and his pained expression became peaceful. The oscilloscope screen slowed to a straight line.

Elita sat next to Optimus' head.

"I love you, dad," she murmured, "Please be okay."

Mikaela placed her tiny palm on his huge one. It was still warm from touching his face. "How long will this take?"

"A few moments," said Drift. He returned the paddles to their place on the wall.

The line on the oscilloscope showed a wave growing in frequency and amplitude. Steam billowed from Optimus' vents. Elita jumped back to escape the heat. Mikaela brought her along when she joined Cade at Ultra Magnus' feet.

Optimus grimaced and tried to twist onto his hands and knees. Tremors-- more like convulsions-- collapsed him on his side with his back towards the door. Mikaela's heart ached for him.

"Mikaela!" His voice was high and thin. "Elita!"

"It's okay," she called back, horrified. "I'm fine!"

"Me, too!" Elita added. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, sniffing. "We're okay, dad! We're back on the ship!"

Thick steam escaped his vents in short, irregular bursts and condensed on his armor. He struggled on the ground as if he forgot how to coordinate his body. Any attempts at movement triggered more tremors.

"Honey, it's okay." Mikaela spoke past the lump in her throat. She longed to rush over and comfort him, but couldn't because he kept thrashing around.

Cade ruffled the hair on the back of his neck. "C'mon, Optimus, it's us. You're good. We're all here."

"Don't bother," muttered Hound, "I saw this in the old data reels. He can't hear us. His processor is all fragged up."

"This _sucks_ ," Crosshairs whispered back.

"Clamp it, you two!" Bumblebee snapped.

"We should grant him his priv--"

"You, too!" Bumblebee cut Ultra Magnus off by jabbing a finger at his surprised face. "And I don't want to hear a single one of you say anything unless it will help the situation. That is our leader, my _friend_ , going through this! He needs our support!"

He spun away in a huff and joined Drift. "How can I assist?"

"He needs to sit up," said Drift. He scowled at the others, "Contrary to what you have heard, Prime is fully aware of what is happening around him."

To Optimus, he murmured, " _Sensei_ , we will aid you in sitting up. You are safe."

Drift and Bumblebee hooked their hands behind Optimus' back and heaved him into a sitting position. Bumblebee cradled him from behind. Attaining a seated position simultaneously allowed steam to escape freely and intensified the writhing.

Optimus pressed a quivering hand over his face when he noticed Elita, Mikaela and the other Autobots witnessing his loss of control.

"Prime." Drift knelt in front of him. "Do not concern yourself with them. Your mind is in chaos, and only you are able to calm it. Focus inward. Envision an ocean. It is storming. The water is chaotic."

Choppy, frothy ocean. Not a nice image for Mikaela, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Chaotic seas," Optimus muffled behind his palm.

Concern softened Drift's expression. He extended his hand palm-up. "I offer you my hand. Anchor yourself. Then face the ocean."

Optimus' right arm moved, reaching. Drift caught his hand.

"You control the ocean, Prime. Calm the water. The water is your mind. Picture it growing as still as a mirror's surface. Calm, Prime. Speak it into existence. Calm... calm..."

"Calm... _calm_..." Optimus clutched Drift's hand like a drowning man clinging to a rescuer. "Calm..."

The steam thinned, the shaking diminished and the oscilloscope on the wall slowed. He relaxed against Bumblebee, yet his brow ridges tilted in a frown.

Drift clasped Optimus' hand between his own and set it gently in his lap. The tremors ceased as soon as he backed away. Bumblebee also withdrew. Optimus stayed sitting up under his own power. He stared at his own hands, his expression inscrutable.

Mikaela's jaw dropped. Optimus' panic attacks usually lasted up to ten minutes or more, and Drift walked him through it in five!

Crosshairs and Ultra Magnus joined hands. They exchanged nervous smiles.

Hound stuffed his helmet back onto his head. "That's unexpected."

Bumblebee rolled his optics and threw his hands up in the air in dramatic exasperation.

Optimus folded his hands on his lap. Steam rushed through his nose vents. A long, healthy ex-vent. He hung his head before the steam finished dissipating, causing it to curve past his face.

"I killed him."

"He was going to shoot Elita," said Mikaela. She couldn't drum up any sympathy for a man who played the victim and tried to murder her daughter in cold blood.

"Optimus..." Cade cleared his throat and raised a hand to get Optimus' attention. "Not to butt in or anything, but from one dad to another, you did what you had to do to save your kid's life." He dropped his hand at his side, "What about shooting Harold Attinger? You didn't get upset about taking him out."

Optimus briefly closed one optic and rubbed the side of his head. "I was in full control of myself when I shot Attinger to save you. He was behind the deaths of many of my Autobots. I felt justified in what I did."

He moved his hand off his head to gesture vaguely upward. "What happened today was, as you call it, a 'knee-jerk' reaction. I stepped between my family and Max to shield them from the bullets. My weapons systems forced themselves online, and I fired my blaster before I shut them down again. I wasn't looking at Max, nor did I aim for him. His position was circumstantial and lethally unfortunate. I could have easily subdued him without further violence."

Elita scrambled into his lap and climbed towards his chest plates. "That's twice now that he took your choice away, dad."

"Oh, sweet-Spark," Optimus murmured. He clasped her against his chest with both hands like he never wanted to let her go again.

Cold realization shot up Mikaela's spine.

"Max knew we're connected. He knew you're Elita's dad." She hugged herself to rub away the goosebumps forming on her arms. "People assumed to be in cahoots with Cybertronians started disappearing after Chicago. Going into hiding like Cade and Sam was the only way to avoid it. I don't know how high Max's security clearance was, but I betcha he intended to make our lives hell after your little chat."

Dissonance raged in her mind. Part of her wanted to cheer at Optimus for shooting the bastard who tore his life apart. At the same time, she knew having a family meant he sympathized with the loss he incurred for Sherry and Tyson.

Cade scratched his jaw, his fingernails scraping audibly over his stubble. He leaned back and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Didn't people connected to the moon landings disappear, too?"

"That was a Decepticon conspiracy to keep the Pillars a secret. The only humans involved were the ones killed," said Optimus. "It wasn't humans seeking to destroy other humans."

"Tch, humans suck!" Crosshairs snapped contemptuously.

"No contest there," Hound huffed.

"Excuse you!" Elita shot over her shoulder.

"What?" Crosshairs spoke around the metal toothpick in his mouth. "It's the truth. You lot are the exceptions that don't suck."

Cade twisted his mouth to the side. "I'm...kinda inclined to agree on that one."

Everybody fell silent when Optimus raised one hand, such was the power of his leadership. His tired voice filled the room, "This is neither the time nor the place to argue."

He turned his head, his gaze briefly fixing on Ultra Magnus, Crosshairs and Hound by the door. His optics traced over Drift and Bumblebee. He studied each person present in turn and shifted his grip on Elita.

"Down you go, sweet-Spark. Ready?"

She let go of his chest plate and sat back on his palm. "Okay."

Optimus transferred her to the floor with utmost gentleness. He shifted upward to perch on the medical berth.

"If you don't mind...I need to be alone for awhile." His optics fixed briefly on Elita. "There is a lot for me to consider."

"Are you certain of your safety?" asked Drift.

"Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary. I have no intention to harm myself."

Bumblebee rested a hand on Optimus' shoulder. "We're a com-call away."

Ultra Magnus cocked his head in silent agreement. Hound gave a thumbs up. Crosshairs nodded.

"Thank you." Optimus bowed his head.

Cade offered a salute before following Bumblebee and Ultra Magnus out. Hound and Crosshairs departed with hardly a sound. Drift was the last bot to leave the room. Optimus watched the door until everybody's shadows disappeared from view.

Elita patted the top of his foot. He flexed it in response.

"Elita, I heard everything you said to my Autobots yesterday."

It took Elita a moment to recall it. Realization stiffened her shoulders. "Um...are you mad about that?"

"No. I'm proud of you." A small, but prominent smile squinted his optics. "You 'Primed', kid. You talked. They listened."

Elita turned away from Optimus and hugged herself. "They were being jerks. I had to say something."

He nudged her gently with his foot. "I'm glad you did."

She looked up at him, her face warming like a wilted rose regaining its color. "Thanks, dad."

Then she turned and jogged away in the same direction everybody else went.

Mikaela vaulted onto the stretcher Optimus used as a footrest. His expression had already melted back to tired apathy. As always, he masked his inner turmoil behind a brave face. Unfortunately, everyone got more than a glimpse beneath the curtain.

"Honey, it's going to be okay," said Mikaela. "Things have a way of working out."

"Yes...you told me as much. Please forgive me for my inability to see that right now."

Optimus leaned forward with his forearms resting on his thighs and clasped his hands between his knees. He wore the same agonized expression as her prom night, only now it ran deeper.

Love wasn't going to stitch this wound back together, but she hoped it soothed the pain.

Walking away felt like abandonment. Mikaela made herself approach the door.

"Mikaela?"

"Hm?" Facing him, she raised a brow.

"I love you." He stared at the floor while he said it, yet his voice held a sincerity that tugged her heart. Those three words remained an undying truth regardless of the lies and chaos happening in his mind.

"I love you, too, Optimus _Prime_." Her quiet response pointed to who he was and how much she believed in him.

Optimus turned his head. They locked eyes, and she knew right away that her words illuminated the way back to himself. His journey traversed a long and winding path. She couldn't walk for him, so she placed herself at the end of it.

He offered a small nod. Message received.

 _And that's marriage_ , Mikaela thought to herself.

She joined the others on the elevator platform.

"This sucks," Hound groused around his cy-gar. "Optimus is goin' crazy."

"Hey!" Elita kicked his foot, which had no effect on the heavy-duty Autobot.

"Don't break your toes, kid."

"How about I break your optic?"

Hound laughed and knelt within her reach. "I'd like to see you tr--"

Elita scowled and punched him square in the optic before Mikaela could stop her. The LEDs flickered. He straightened with that optic screwed shut.

"She knocked my optic loose!" Hound nudged her gently with his foot. He opened the optic she punched and winked it a few times. "Heh, heh, I like you, kid."

"It's not funny!" snapped Elita.

Crosshairs' features rose in a smirk. "It's funny when a pint-sized squishy takes a piece outta Hound."

Bumblebee rolled his optics. "And here, I thought I was considered the immature one."

"Ugh." Ultra Magnus stared upward and slapped both palms over his face.

"The arrogance of youth is thinking emotion is in our control and not the other way around," Drift lifted his chin, "Let them fight."

Elita backed away from the growing scuffle, grumbling, "Drift, you're quoting _Godzilla_."

"God-who?" asked Drift.

Mikaela rubbed her temples. "Drift, you're opening Pandora's Box by asking that question. She's a friggin' super-fan."

He waved her off and cocked his head towards Elita. "By all means, educate me."

The elevator rose towards the level above. One side had arguing Autobots, the other was Elita telling a very fascinated Drift the entire history of the _Godzilla_ franchise. Poor Cade stood in the middle of it all with an expression morphing between fascination and horror.

.o

Repeated clanks woke Mikaela after who knew how long. She sleepily picked her head up and sought the source. Drift bent to peer into the crate being used as a bedroom.

"My apologies for disturbing your recharge. Optimus has called a meeting and requests everyone's presence."

"Sure. Gimme a sec."

Mikaela popped a mint Lifesaver into her mouth and ran a brush through her messy hair to tame it. She slept in her clothes. There was no helping her sleep-wrinkled hoodie.

"Okay, good to go."

Drift scooped her up like a kitten. His hands were several inches narrower than Optimus', so she sat cross-legged on his palm for more stability. Funny, being carried by giant robots didn't feel the least bit weird to her anymore.

He walked smoothly, never jostling her. "I find it interesting that your planet symbolizes the atomic bomb through this Godzilla creature."

"Actually, it's Japan," Mikaela corrected him. Oh, crap, Elita _was_ rubbing off on her.

"Mm, still." Drift gazed ahead, deep in thought, "Many tales cite Unicron as a manifestation of the hatred and despair of those lost to Cybertron's war. Your people tell stories of Godzilla raining destruction on cities like the atomic bomb, and mine spins cautionary tales about Unicron devouring worlds like our war."

"I guess we're more alike than you thought, eh?"

"Yes, very much. Oh..." He ducked his head, his lips quirked in a half-smile.

"What?" She eyed him.

"Optimus speaks fondly of your penchant for fascinating conversations."

Heat rose into Mikaela's cheeks and her heart fluttered. She wiped her hair behind her ears.

"Have I embarrassed you?"

"Huh? Nah. I like knowing he raves about me."

Drift chuckled at that. His laugh was quiet, reserved. Unfortunately, their chitchat had to end there because they emerged into the large main room.

A circle of light illuminated a rectangular table set up in the middle, and its dimmer outer edges faintly lit the Autobots. Optimus was at the head of the table. Bumblebee and Hound sat to his left. Crosshairs and Ultra Magnus were on his right.

Someone piled data pads on the table like a bench occupied by Cade and Elita. Its position placed the humans opposite to where Optimus sat.

Drift let Mikaela slide off his palm between Cade and Elita and quietly seated himself behind them.

Optimus's hands gleamed as he folded them on the tabletop. "The late Stephen Hawking once said, 'the greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge.'"

Mikaela saw him squeeze his hands together like he longed to hold onto himself. He closed his optics and leaned back where shadows partly swallowed his facial features.

"Sometimes, a single conversation is all it takes to enact change," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We view mental illness as something to fear and a source of shame. Shame is an emotion that tells us we don't measure up to societal standards. We veil our shame in shadows and secrecy, and we live in constant fear of it coming to light against our will."

Optimus opened his optics. They were hard, determined. His hands released their hold on each other. He laid them flat on the tabletop and leaned forward into the light.

"But our secrets cannot shame us if there are no secrets to feel ashamed of. So, as difficult as this is, I will end my shame right now by facing it head-on."

His expression showed neither a smile nor sneer. He spread his hands like a gateway into the darkness behind him.

"Understanding breaks through fear. This is an opportunity for you to learn, to understand. You may ask me any questions you have about stasis trauma, and I will answer them to the best of my ability. Nothing is off limits or too personal. I am an open file."

Elita grabbed Mikaela's hand and held it. Hope glowed in her eyes.

Uncomfortable silence followed. The Autobots exchanged sidelong looks.

"Damn, tough crowd," whispered Cade. He tapped his feet against the table. "I'll break the ice. Was I triggering you off when I fixed you in my barn?"

Momentary relief crossed Optimus' features. "Yes, unfortunately. I was not aware of my condition at the time, but I recognize my behavior in hindsight."

"So you went through denial?"

Optimus pouted his lower lip plate out as he nodded. "Admitting the illness to myself took nearly a year. I waited until after Christmas to tell Mikaela. It was not the stasis trauma itself that frightened me...it was what transpired to cause it. I believed I had been unfaithful to her through no choice of my own."

"But you weren't," Mikaela met his optics.

He smiled slightly, there and gone like the sun between clouds.

That exchanged look broke the first layer of tension.

Hound emitted a noise like clearing his throat. "My turn. Do you hallucinate weird stuff?"

"No," said Optimus, "The closest thing I have to a hallucination is a body flashback, where I feel the pain-- and other sensations-- of what happened to me as if it is happening again. Such episodes tend to occur on the anniversary date of _moment zero_."

"Forgive me if this is intrusive." Ultra Magnus curled a fist by his mouth as though covering a cough, "Has it altered your ability to experience pleasure during intimacy?"

Optimus focused on Mikaela, and didn't respond until she consented with a nod.

"At times, yes. The sensation itself has not changed at all."

Crosshairs broke the awkward silence next. "How're the nightmares? Is there a pattern to 'em? Do you remember 'em after you wake up?"

"They happen more frequently in times of stress. Sometimes, they crop up for no reason at all. I never recall experiencing them. Mikaela and Elita tell me about my behavior after I awaken." His throat mechanisms worked like a swallow. "Elita took video once at my request. I looked exactly like the locked-up bots in the old data reels hidden under Iacon."

He showed it to them. A short ten-second clip of him pounding on the basement floor and mumbling in Cybertronian while staring at Elita's phone. His unseeing optics flickered at two different speeds. Mikaela got him to lay down, but he reached towards the wall without acknowledging her comforting hands.

Nightmares were undoubtedly the scariest and ugliest stasis trauma symptom.

Lots of uncomfortable shifting happened around the table. Cade gasped and his brow knit. Elita remained silent. Hound pulled his helmet down over his optics and refused to watch. Bumblebee laid a hand on Optimus' forearm. Crosshairs turned his head, yet watched through the corners of his optics. Ultra Magnus grimaced. Drift emitted a quiet sighing noise from his vents. He had been so quiet that Mikaela forgot he was behind her.

Ultra Magnus adjusted the crate he sat on. "Such awful recordings."

"Yes," said Optimus. The video hologram disappeared. "Hound, it's gone."

"Better be." Hound inched his helmet up to peek, then pushed it back atop his head. "No offense."

"None taken." Optimus sat up straighter, causing his crate to squeak. "The old reels terribly misrepresent stasis trauma, as Elita's phone footage shows. They do not distinguish flashbacks from panic episodes or nightmares."

He touched the hand Bumblebee laid on his forearm, a soothing gesture. "The bots in the old reels have not lost their grip on reality, they are acting out data tracks while in recharge."

Bumblebee flashed the briefest smile at being acknowledged and returned to his original posture.

"Can you explain the difference between the three?"

"Nightmares are consciousness trying to intrude on the compression and consolidation phase of recharge. That is why bots can't remember their behavior later. Flashbacks are the opposite...they are data tracks of _moment zero_ intruding on a conscious experience when a trigger is encountered, and a bot experiencing one will remember it later. Panic episodes are my sensory and weapons systems perceiving a threat when no threat is present. I am fully conscious, fully aware, but barely able to control my body."

Hound gripped his seat like he wanted to bail off it. His brow ridges drew together, highlighting his craggy features. "Do you know you're in a flashback when you're having one?"

"Sometimes, yes, sometimes, no. If I am not, I can be made aware of it, and that allows me shake the flashback off."

Optimus glanced around at the gathered Autobots and nervously twiddled his thumbs.

"You're handling this like a boss, Optimus." Cade tapped his fist over his heart. "Respect."

Optimus arched a brow ridge. Ultra Magnus, who fancied himself an internet meme connoisseur, cracked a smile. Elita giggled into her hand. Mikaela found more amusement in its literalness than anything else.

"Must be a human thing," Crosshairs muttered to Ultra Magnus.

"Ugh, don't make me explain memes to you _again_."

Crosshairs cocked his head and slow blinked at him. "I _like_ it when you get _technical_."

Ultra Magnus nudged Crosshairs with his shoulder in pretended offense.

The amusing exchanges thinned more of the tension in the room.

Finally, Drift asked a question. His voice arced across the table like a shadow. "What about emotional volatility? Do you often find yourself struggling to maintain a balanced center?"

"Yes. I experience moments of extreme emotion. Then I fall into apathy." Optimus shifted in his seat. "The apathy is by far the worst. I want to feel an emotion, and I can't. I have to make myself act because the internal motivation isn't there."

Hound and Ultra Magnus exchanged looks. Mikaela had learned to recognize communications across private comm-lines when she saw it. Ultra Magnus nodded once, his optics falling half-shut.

Bumblebee leaned his elbows against the tabletop. "What was stasis catatonia like? Was it painful?"

"I have no memory of being brought to the ship. I believed I was shouting for Elita and Mikaela the whole time. There was a period of nothing, and then I was on the medical bay floor. From that point on, I was fully aware of what was said around me."

That answer caused Hound to squeeze his optics shut and rub a hand down the middle of his face. "Sorry about the trash-talk, Prime."

Crosshairs took the toothpick out of his mouth. "Me, too."

"I don't hold it against you," said Optimus.

He stopped holding his shoulders so rigid and looked the other Autobots in the eye more often. His shame was falling away, drop by drop.

Cade raised a hand. "How's it feel when you panic?"

"It is probably similar to the human experience. My logical thoughts tell me I am in no danger, but my instincts assume the opposite. Steam happens because my internal temperature rises in response to my heightened senses. My fight or flight programming kicks online. Motor disruptions occur when I forcefully shut down my weapons and targeting systems, since panic activates them."

"It looked like a freakin' seizure," muttered Hound.

"Yes, I know." Optimus dropped his gaze to the table. Everyone squirmed uncomfortably in their seats. The awkwardness was almost palpable.

Crosshairs twirled his toothpick around his fingertips. "Were you panicking when you shot that squishy's head off?"

"That was rude!" Ultra Magnus hissed, elbowing his side.

"Nothing's off-limits!"

Optimus quieted them by patting his hands downward at the table.

"Yes, Crosshairs, that is exactly what happened. Today was an example of what can occur if I don't take my weapons systems offline fast enough. The shot I fired was one hundred percent involuntary, and the consequences were unconscionable. It could have easily been Mikaela or Elita."

The Autobots mumbled among themselves. Optimus used the momentary break to lean back and vent a long, cool puff of air.

"Does new trauma cause the traumas before and after your _moment zero_ to become more salient in your memory? And do approaching anniversary dates increase your symptoms?"

All optics fixed on Drift. Mikaela swore the room transformed into a photograph until Optimus spoke.

"Unfortunately, yes. _Moment zero's_ anniversary is the most difficult for me. So is the Christmas season, which is when I finally admitted the stasis trauma to Mikaela and Elita. It was a daunting conversation, just like this one, but I'm glad we're talking about this."

"So am I, Prime. Which leads to my next question..." Drift bowed his head respectfully, "The panic attacks-- with the fits of trembling, overwhelming processor heat and the terrible fear that it will never end-- how do you, personally, cope?"

Optimus' expression softened. He fixed his optics on Mikaela.

"Mikaela asks me to recall a pleasant memory we share, and we talk about it until I regain control of myself. She is incredible."

Mikaela beamed at him. Hope brimmed in her heart. Optimus winked at her, and the other bots looked at each other with surprised faces. He realized he acted in an un-Prime way right in front of them and rubbed the back of his head.

Crosshairs slapped the table and hooted, "Optimus flirtin' with a human chick. Now I _really_ saw it all!"

The tension in the room exploded. Everyone erupted in hilarity. Well...everybody except for Drift, who smiled rather than laugh. He placed a small silver object on the table while everybody else howled and guffawed.

One by one, the Autobots calmed down.

Crosshairs squinted suspiciously at the silver item, which resembled one of Elita's two-by-four Lego bricks.

"I'll be damned, an old fashioned Decepticon immobilizer! Haven't seen one of these babies since Optimus liberated the Autobot prisoners in the labor camp under Kaon."

"Nasty. Didn't Shockwave execute the guards for not stopping the escape?" Hound sneered around his cy-gar.

Ultra Magnus nodded enthusiastically. "One guard survived because the shot missed his Spark by millimeters."

"Ironhide was there," said Bumblebee. "He said Optimus couldn't stand the injustice of it all, so he went back when he realized the last guard was still alive."

Mikaela saw Optimus' gaze briefly pause on Drift.

"Speculation is not important now." Drift waved a dismissive hand. "I reprogrammed the immobilizer to activate only during the compression and consolidation phase of recharge. Prime, it will prevent your body from acting out data tracks during an activation glitch."

Ultra Magnus picked up the immobilizer and turned it over in the light. Mikaela noticed the Decepticon symbol was filed off the top.

Hound's scruffy face plates scrunched up with skepticism. "Hold up! Has this thing been tested for malware?"

Drift eased onto his feet and calmly turned away, his form joining the darkness outside the circle of light.

"Yes." He closed his fists, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I can assure you that it is clean and works."

"Who's your test subject?" asked Crosshairs.

Drift grimaced and melted further into the shadows. "Myself."

Mikaela wished she had her phone out to capture how wide and bright Optimus' optics opened. The classic 'oh shit' face of someone realizing they weren't alone.

She glanced at Elita and Cade. Cade looked as surprised as everyone else. Elita wore a knowing expression.

"Wow," whispered Hound, "Well frag, that explains why you're such a closet hothead."

Bumblebee scowled and elbowed Hound's side.

"It is my deepest secret...my deepest shame," murmured Drift. A familiar tremor wracked his body. He flinched and took another step away.

Bumblebee hurried into the shadows and clapped a hand on Drift's shoulder. "Drift, stay."

"They will mock me."

"No."

Hound gestured at Crosshairs. Crosshairs shrugged. Ultra Magnus placed the immobilizer back on the table and moved to stand. Optimus extended his hands between all three of them in a 'stop' gesture.

"I knew it," Elita said, almost startling a century off Mikaela's life, "I knew Drift had it too."

"How?" Mikaela whispered back.

"Hound messed with him earlier and his eyes flashed like dad's. It was a blink-and-you-miss it thing, but I saw it."

Movement within the shadows drew Mikaela's attention back to the Autobots.

Air hissed through Drift's vents in swift whooshes. Steam billowed from his nose and neck like someone forcing themselves to breathe slowly. He grimaced, tipping his face upward and closing his optics. His shivers happened as bursts of single, yet violent whole-body jerks that swayed him on his feet.

Optimus' slow, sweeping gesture cleared everyone away from the table. He stood, pushing the crate he used for a chair back with his calves.

"You do not have to stay alone in the dark anymore, Drift. Come forward. You are safe."

Drift hesitated for a long time before he reentered the light with Optimus. He spoke in spurts between shudders.

"I-- need-- a moment. This passes swiftly-- if I am-- allowed time-- to c-calm myself. I-- am not a d-danger to you. I c-can calm myself..."

Optimus intoned the twelve most powerful words of the entire conversation. "You don't need to explain. I understand. Do what you need to."

He stepped back to give the other bot space. The Autobots maintained polite silence while Drift sat on the floor in the lotus position, clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

"Calm, calm, calm."

Drift lingered on the _m_ sound like a monk's 'om' chant, and his voice steadied itself through bouts of tremors. His steaming ex-vents thinned into nothingness by the third repetition. Mikaela couldn't believe how quickly he regained his composure.

Hound was the first one there after Drift uncurled to stand.

"You okay, man?"

Drift nodded without looking at him. "Do you understand why I find no amusement in being provoked from behind?"

"Uhhh...sorta. Wanna talk about it later?"

"Of course."

Everyone returned to their places at the table. They patted Drift's back or shoulders rather than make sarcastic comments about his demeanor.

"Autobots, it is time for a paradigm shift, and Drift has proven why it is necessary."

Optimus unhooked the sword mounted on his back and laid it in the middle of the table. His shiniest parts gleamed beneath the light above his head when he straightened. He looked everyone in the eyes, one by one.

"Shame is banished from this ship from this moment onward. Anyone who wishes to disclose an illness or struggle will be heard and cared for, not shunned or excluded. I hope Drift's coming forward encourages others to do so as well, and I...will not hide my struggles from you. We must rise together, my friends, or we will fall apart. Are you with me?"

"Hot Rod is gonna be sorry he missed this," said Crosshairs.

Hound scowled him. "Pipe down, we're having a moment here!"

Bumblebee jumped upright and surrendered his arm blaster. Drift stood, sliding his sword onto the table beside Optimus'. Crosshairs drew his twin guns, tossed them upward to catch them by the barrels and placed them near the blades as he rose. Hound pushed up and set his cy-gar next to Drift's blade. Ultra Magnus transformed a war hammer off his back that Mikaela never knew he had and laid it across everyone's weapons.

Cade got up with tears in his eyes, shifted the Relic into Excalibur and set it down with Drift's and Optimus' blades. Elita looked at herself, took her shoes off and added them to the pile. Mikaela presented her wedding ring.

Everyone stood unified beneath the circle of light in the otherwise dark room, and Optimus never looked more like a leader than he did right then.

.o

A new morning began with Mikaela rolling up her sweatshirt sleeves while standing on the medical bay exam table. Cade waited patiently beside her, toolbox in hand. Drift adjusted an overhead light to focus on the area they planned to work.

"So how does a bot develop stasis trauma?" Cade asked as they set up. "I thought stasis lock shut everything down."

"An easy mistake to make. Stasis lock is a mimicry of death, and only finding a Spark reveals the presence of life. There is no processor activity or awareness. Stasis is closer to sustained sleep. Activity continues in the processor, albeit with little to no awareness of the outside world. A common experience as one slips into stasis is reliving the moments leading up to it. The processor normally releases that file and enters a lengthy defragmentation mode."

Drift lowered the exam table slightly by pressing buttons on the wall above it.

"Stasis trauma occurs when the processor loops the file instead of releasing it. This error causes little to no issue if stasis lasts a short time. When it lasts a long while, it damages the processor and breeds chaos in a bot's programming."

He spread his hands, his face a solemn mask. "Envision yourself reliving the worst, most horrific moment of your life over and over for months, weeks, years. It is your reality, and there is no way to escape. All the emotion of it, all the horror and terror of it, torture you for an indefinite period of time."

Cade raised his eyebrows and grasped at the air. "That sounds cra-- no, wrong word-- that sounds like _hell_."

"It is." Drift said simply. He lifted his head, his optics sharp. "Prime is ready."

The platform blocking the door descended. Optimus looked haggard. Mikaela knew he hadn't recharged at all when he closed his optics and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

"You need sleep, honey," Mikaela told him.

"I know." Optimus managed a tired wink. He looked over at Drift as he stepped off the platform. "Will stasis be induced for this procedure?"

Drift bowed respectfully. "No, _sensei_. Installing the immobilizer is simple. Cade asked to perform the procedure. You need only to expose your laminates and he will handle the rest."

"Very well."

Optimus seated himself on the floor with his back against the exam table, which put him in the perfect position for the procedure. His helm plates shifted apart and he split the top of his head open like a pop-up book. Mikaela glimpsed what lay under his helm after he came down with a computer virus once, but she didn't see much. Now his _brain_ lay exposed under the overhead light.

Crescents of transparent laminate boards jutted upward in six rows like the honeycombs inside beehives. They were as tall as Mikaela's hand was wide and stretched from the front of his helm to the back. Flexible gold pipes terminated at the gaps between them. Like bladeless Dyson fans, they worked with coolant to keep everything from overheating.

The six laminate boards formed a V-shape. Six long neural clusters wrapped together in a translucent sheath emerged above his optics, curled around the sides of his laminates and connected to something gold behind them. Four smaller cables of similar appearance came from near his nose and extended through the central gap between the laminates like cornrow braids. They glowed electric blue, but the overhead light easily overpowered them.

All the laminates attached to something silver. Mikaela couldn't see it clearly through the network of fine neon green coolant tubing, blue-violet energon lines and tiny wires coiled up like steel wool among everything else.

 _Geez, no wonder his head hurts so much when he panics_.

"What a weird way to see inside somebody's head," Mikaela remarked.

"Are you disappointed that it isn't all hot air?" Optimus replied amiably.

"Totally," she kidded right back.

Drift shifted his weight uncertainly. Maybe he wasn't used to hearing people speak to Optimus that way.

"It's cooler if you try these on." Cade handed Mikaela his magnifying goggles and gestured at her to look at the laminate boards, so she did.

Their clear surfaces were chock full of microscopic fiber-optic circuits less than half a human hair in width. Each circuit formed complex patterns reminiscent of neurons, and they flickered bright blue-white at random intervals.

She was watching Optimus _think_.

Agent Simmons said modern computer technology came from reverse-engineering Megatron's inner workings. Mikaela realized he wasn't full of crap after all.

"There we are." Cade spread his hands to indicate the whole array. "Sensory boards are towards the sides, everything related to emotions, memory and behavior is in the middle. These--" He pointed to the central two boards, "--are like a combination of frontal lobes and temporal lobes on us. Am I right on that, Optimus?"

"Almost. My equivalent of an amygdala is in the bottom center." Optimus' eyelids clicked when he blinked. "Your knowledge of Cybertronian anatomy has improved greatly."

"I had a lot of time to get to know it since you woke up in my barn."

"Wow," Mikaela said under her breath.

"Yeah," Cade said, "You're looking at micro-plasma transistors and nano-photonics. The bursts of light are plasma discharges. A new pathway gets etched in when he learns something new and they reinforce themselves the more he uses them. His repair nanites prune everything down while he's recharging to make it more efficient. Just like our brains when we sleep."

Curious, Mikaela leaned closer to look towards the bottom of the central laminates. A palimpsest of etchings marked the entire lower center edges like someone spun the dials on an old Etch-a-Sketch, shook it and spun the dials again. Many pathways appeared faded, others shone sharply new. The entire area lit up when a plasma discharge went through.

Stasis trauma wasn't _just_ software.

Cade kept talking, unaware of what caught her attention. "We're a bunch of walking meat and chemical reactions that generate electricity. Transformers are walking quantum computers that generate energy states. They turn plasma into electrical signals, turn electrical signals into light, get a bunch of atoms into superposition to get the data...and that data turns into light, the light turns back into electrical signals before it turns back into plasma. He's doing that right now while we're talking-- and they all do it faster than lightning without much decoherence. It's tied to the plasma of their Sparks and the energon circulating in their hoses."

He smiled halfway, "And the big guy won't tell me how it all fits together."

Funny, Mikaela never expected a buff man like Cade to be a nerdy engineer who spoke in techno babble. His knowledge of Cybertronian anatomy surpassed hers due to his background, and it was a tiny bit intimidating. Did guys feel that way when they realized she knew more about cars than them?

Optimus chuckled softly. "Your kind has studied mine for a century and you haven't connected the dots? Why should I hand you the answer key?"

"Because we'll do something stupid if you do." Cade made a face. "Most people will put it to good use. The rest want to blow something up."

"Yes," Drift added, his optics looking faraway in thought. He set the immobilizer on the table next to Cade. "Power in the wrong hands leads to its abuse. Abusing power leads to corruption, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, especially in the case of people who do not comprehend what they wield. Power comes with responsibility-- it should not be used in full until all other options have failed. Unfortunately, both of our races have lost sight of that truth."

Mikaela glanced at Cade. Both suppressed a shudder.

"Well put," said Optimus. He ex-vented air that smelled like turpentine mixed into vinegar-- the scent of energon. "Shall we begin?"

Drift lowered his head and gestured towards the immobilizer chip. "The immobilizer was immersed in a sample of your repair nanites. That should prevent a physical rejection."

Cade wiped his hands on his jeans, wiggled into a pair of blue latex gloves and pulled a dust mask over his mouth. He used his needle nose pliers to point at the panel just left of the central one.

"Here's what we're looking for. The chip has to go on the bottom. Optimus, I'm gonna pop this up. Mikaela, grab the coolant hoses when they start uncurling. We don't want any of them kinking."

"What about static electricity?"

"No problem for these guys."

"Okay."

Cade touched a switch inside Optimus' head. The board he indicated slid upward, swung over and presented itself upside down. Glowing bluish-purple energon circulated through two pipes attached to the circuit board base. Pins between the pipes writhed like tentacles in their housings.

Mikaela gathered handfuls of wires and tubes in each hand as they unraveled. She peeked into the gap and spotted a metal sphere no larger than a marble surrounded by very fine cables. His quantum central processor, the thing that told his brain to think, perceive and imagine. Destroying that killed a bot just as surely as ripping out their Spark.

Optimus' whole body stiffened and relaxed. Drift eyed him warily.

"Are you experiencing any adverse flashbacks from this?"

"No," replied Optimus, "The movement was involuntary. I'm fine. Proceed."

Nodding, Drift broke open the container to expose a tiny glass rectangle with gold wires growing off one side. Cade plucked up the chip using his needle nose pliers.

"Chip incoming." He moved the chip along the underside of the circuit board's housing. Three twitching connectors extended towards it like baby birds vying for food. The connectors appeared to consume the chip wires until the chip lay flat against the panel. No soldering necessary. "Okay, Optimus, the chip is in. You can close up now."

The circuit board returned to its correct position. Mikaela coiled the neural lines and tubes in their proper places. All six boards slid down into their protective slots and everything descended under Optimus' helm.

Drift helped Optimus up onto the table. Cade took off his dust mask and gloves. Mikaela kept a careful eye on Optimus when he rubbed the top of his head like it hurt.

"I believed no one understood how much control I utilize to appear well when I am not," Drift began. He closed the chip casing and kept his head bowed.

"Stasis trauma never resolves entirely-- anyone who tells you it went away is deluding themselves. Treatment and time will make your symptoms bearable, but the illness itself never leaves your processor. Future traumas may lead to relapses that force you to start all over again."

The sadness in Drift's optics hardened.

"The Decepticons developed a treatment method that trains the processor to re-process the traumatic memory and work around the damage. It is called Flicker Desensitization and Reprocessing. With time, it shrinks the troublesome micro-plasma transistors and aids in self-soothing when symptoms arise. You can administer it to yourself after being guided through how to apply it. Ratchet used it on Ironhide. Ironhide used it to help himself. I studied Ratchet's videos and utilized his files to treat myself. Unfortunately, treating myself did not achieve the same results as Ironhide, but you may have more success."

He closed his fists, determined. "It is not a cure, as there is no way to entirely close off the transistors. But being startled from behind once filled me with mortal terror. My response was uncontrollably violent. Now? I am able to stop myself before I damage another bot."

Optimus stopped rubbing his head and got to his feet. "I appreciate your honesty, and I am open to any assistance you have to offer. Thank you, Drift."

"No, _sensei_ ," Drift met his leader's optics in a look of admiration. "Thank _you_."

Mikaela felt the immense gratitude contained within Drift's words.

Optimus smiled at that. Drift smiled back, turned away and walked out looking a lot more confident than Mikaela had ever seen him.

Cade's phone rang. Startled, he walked across the table to answer it. "Cade Yeager-- oh," He ran a hand over his messy hair. "Vivian! Hi. How'd it go? Yeah? How's Izzy?"

Mikaela yawned as Optimus sat down on the table again. He clasped his hands in his lap and proceeded to look adoringly at her with the same puppy dog eyes Cade got when he saw who called.

"The last few days feel like eons," he said softly.

She patted his elbow. "Yeah, but look what happened. You told your story, and they listened. You found somebody who understands what you're going through."

"Yes...you were right." He cupped his hand behind her. "Mikaela, have I told you that you're amazing?"

"I like it when you do." Mikaela purred, leaning back against his palm. The way he rubbed his thumb up and down her spine was divine.

"Well then," Optimus chuckled and winked at her. "You're amazing."

Cade finished his call and faced them, totally unaware of the flirting.

"Looks like it's time for me to--"

"Yup!" Crosshairs practically stomped on the elevator platform. "C'mon, Maggie, he's still in the med bay!"

"Slow down!" Ultra Magnus walked much quieter.

Both mechs rode the platform down and squeezed themselves through the narrow doorway.

Ultra Magnus spoke as soon as they entered the room. "Optimus, I apologize for this interloper's loud mouth and lack of patience."

"You like it," muttered Crosshairs. "So are you telling him, or am I?"

Ultra Magnus attempted to compose his expression. A radiant smile leaked through. He took Crosshairs' hand and interlocked their fingers.

"We Spark-bonded."

Optimus straightened, his optics brightening. "Congratulations!"

"Cool!" Mikaela chuckled, watching how they beamed and slow-blinked at each other.

"No regrets." Crosshairs clasped Ultra Magnus' hand between both of his own.

Cade nudged Mikaela. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Um...what's going on?"

She pointed to her wedding ring. "Basically, they got married."

"Ohh...that's what that is? Wow. Congrats, guys!"

"You two did it? It's final?" Elita asked from the door. She must have hopped on the platform when they did.

"Yup," Crosshairs beamed at her. "We're done fooling around."

A weird expression crossed her face. Her smile seemed forced. She turned around and hollered into the opening above her, "Hey, guys, Crosshairs and Mags got hitched!"

"Loud kid," Cade snickered. "Is she always that loud?"

"Nope. She gets louder than that," Mikaela replied, ignoring Elita's indignant huff.

Moments later, all the Autobots gathered around the happy couple. Excitement permeated the room. Mikaela welcomed the celebratory atmosphere-- they all needed it after the last few days. She turned to beckon Elita further in, but Elita had already disappeared from the doorway.

.o

Cade said his goodbyes and departed somewhere around noon. He left with an Autobot whose name Mikaela didn't catch.

"Cade's gone already?" Elita joined her as the hatch swooshed shut.

"Yup." Mikaela stretched her hands above her head, yawning. "He had things to do."

Elita tucked her phone away and toyed with the Matrix necklace. "Maybe it's better that he doesn't know."

"Huh?"

She concealed the lavaliere under her baggy blue tie dyed T-shirt. "Prima talks to me a lot through this thing. He said souls have energy signatures like Sparks do. They're like a fingerprint. You can cut your fingers off to remove your fingerprints, you can destroy DNA with radiation or mutations, but you can't mess up energy signatures."

Mikaela cocked her head. This was getting spooky.

"And...?"

"Souls with unfinished business like to finish their business." Elita wiped her bangs sideways across her forehead, revealing her port-wine Prime birthmark. "Arthur Pendragon's energy signature is the only one that can transform the Relic into Excalibur."

She grinned impishly. "I betcha Cade feels like he's accomplished something important and can't put his finger on why."

Mikaela sensed the hairs on the back of her neck raising. "There are a lot of stories about Arthur. Which one is right?"

Elita tucked her hands into her jeans pockets and gazed at Mikaela through her eyelashes. "That doesn't matter, mom. The stories got one thing right-- King Arthur _happened_."

She looked up at the ceiling. "Maybe the human race is gonna be a legend to some far off civilization in a gazillion years. I mean, what if they pick up a stray broadcast of something old, like _The Wizard of Oz_ , and think that's who we were and how we lived?"

"That sounds funny." Mikaela ducked her head, giggling at the absurdity of it. "Does that mean we represent the Lollipop Guild?"

Elita's laughter was music. "Yep!"

They threw an arm around each other and sang the Lollipop Guild song at the top of their lungs as they skipped through the corridor.

"I'm too tired to ask," Hound said when they passed him.

"We wish to welcome you to Munchkin Land!" Elita shouted over Mikaela's giggling.

.o

Hound, Bumblebee and Drift crashed in the main cargo bay for some much needed recharge. Drift recharged _standing up_. Mikaela couldn't figure out how he accomplished that. Optimus went up to the bridge to man the helm. Elita was napping in the crate.

Soft music came from the campsite corridor, so off Mikaela went seeking its source. The song grew recognizable as she got closer. American Authors, _Best Day of my Life_.

 _"_... _I'm never gonna look back, whoa!_ __  
Never gonna give it up, no! __  
Just don't wake me now. __  
This is gonna be the best day of my life! _  
My life-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ife_... _"_

She found Ultra Magnus and Crosshairs gamboling up and down the hallway. They danced like she did with Optimus, albeit with more foot kicking, twirling and hip swinging. Their bright optics and smiling faces expressed how much fun they had.

 _"_... _But all the possibilities_ , __  
no limits just epiphanies! _  
Wo-oah-oah-oah-oah-oh_... _"_

Crosshairs deftly avoided stepping on Ultra Magnus' feet. They spun one way, laughed, tripped over each other and whirled another direction.

"You're sizzling my circuits," Crosshairs murmured.

"Hm, it sounds like a coolant problem."

"Nah. It's a Maggie problem."

"Really?"

"Yup."

Ultra Magnus slipped his hands under Crosshairs' coat-like armor and grasped his hips. There was no mistaking the way his optics dimmed.

"Well then..." He pulled Crosshairs possessively against his chest and leaned so close their mouth plates almost touched. "How about I become more of a problem?"

Crosshairs planted both hands on Ultra Magnus' backside. He lifted one brow ridge and his voice dropped low. "I like this problem. Make it worse."

Ultra Magnus waggled his brow ridges. His smile was absolutely _lecherous_.

 _"...the stars were burning so bright_!  
_The sun was out 'til midnight_!  
_I say we lose control... (control_... _)"_

Mikaela stifled a snicker and headed back to "camp" to grant them their privacy. Bumblebee said they weren't as legendary as Ironhide and Ratchet, but she had a feeling they would be someday.

 _"...this is gonna be the best day of my life!_ _  
My life-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ife_... _"_

.o

Elita and Mikaela sat on Optimus' shoulders while he guided the spaceship forward. Somerset turned into a patchwork quilt in many shades of green and brown. Cybertron's shadow shrouded the Tor. The chunk of Cybertronian land they visited earlier was nowhere in sight. No trace of it remained in the verdant grass.

Goosebumps rippled along Mikaela's skin. She peeked past Optimus' nose at Elita. Elita raised both eyebrows and grinned.

Optimus guided the spaceship over Moneybox field. He reached into his chest plate and opened his hand to reveal Buggy. A smile tilted his optics when he looked over at Elita.

"Everything is magical when you're young. Then you grow up, the world wears that innocence away, and what remains are stories of wizards and fairies." He placed Buggy across Elita's lap. "Perhaps stories are meant to remind us that magic exists for those who continue to believe in it."

Elita stroked Buggy like she would a loyal puppy. She pulled Seth's dog tag out of her pocket.

"Dad, the most powerful story you can tell is yours. So when you're old someday, tell it before you die. Tell somebody who you are, how you felt and what you did. Don't leave everybody with just a name and a sad newspaper clipping. Okay?"

Mikaela felt rather than heard Optimus' curious rumble.

"This concerns you greatly," he replied. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nah, not right now." Elita tucked the dog tag back inside her pocket.

"Very well. "He looked up, his optics brightening. "Do you remember the question you used to ask me when you were three?"

"Uh-huh. What's behind the sky?"

Optimus offered his hand. When Elita hopped on, he transferred her onto the right side control panel. Mischief glimmered in his optics.

"Stand here," he pointed to the top of the glowing orange slot, "and you will have the answer."

Excitement alit her features. She hugged Buggy securely and jumped towards Optimus' fingertip.

The ship ascended through Earth's atmosphere. Mikaela's heart leapt to her throat as she watched the sky graduate through deeper blues, like sinking into the ocean. Eventually, ultramarine gave way to blackness. Earth became a blurry blue, white and brown line barely visible at the bottom of the platform.

"Whoa! We're in _space!_ "

"Mmhmm. A walk on Cybertron will be impossible for obvious reasons, but..." He gazed ahead with an almost painful hope in his optics, "I wish to show you my world."

Mikaela glimpsed massive scars marring Europe, Asia and Africa as Optimus ascended towards the battered honeycomb sphere of Cybertron. The 'honeycombs' were titanic. He deftly flew the ship through one. Buildings dotted the second level. Some had grand spires, others appeared plain.

Everything was further away than it seemed. Growing up on a planet where people weren't the size of trucks skewed Mikaela's sense of scale.

"This is Iacon, the Autobot capital of Cybertron," Optimus said, his voice gentle against the placid dimness. "There was a time when it gleamed gold against the dark. We called it the Golden Age of Cybertron."

"Now it looks like Hiroshima," Elita whispered, her expression somber.

He blinked slowly. "Cities can be rebuilt. Lost lives cannot."

Elita set Buggy down and faced Optimus. "Can the Matrix finish the job and light it up again?"

A sad smile shifted Optimus' features. "No, sweet-Spark. The Matrix offers bursts of energy. Cybertron needs something more sustainable."

He guided the ship onward to another city situated beside a burnt landmass. Mikaela stared curiously into a silo the size of a baseball stadium.

"This is Tyger Pax," he said, bowing his head. "You're both here because of the decision I made under this very spot."

Even quieter, he muttered, "And Quintessa's exact words to me were, 'Your war doomed Cybertron. You destroyed your world, you fool.'"

Both his eye ridges tilted up at the inner corners. His outer pupils shrank to their smallest aperture. A grimace twisted his face plates.

Static laced his voice when he said, "I did _this_ to my home, and--"

"Honey..." Mikaela scooted over and cupped a hand against the side of his helm.

"--I betrayed myself while trying to bring it back. I am no better than Sentinel!"

"Quintessa brainwashed you," she protested.

"That doesn't matter!" Optimus slapped his hand down on the arm of the chair. " _My_ decision devastated my world. There is no changing that fact."

Anything Mikaela wanted to say faltered in the face of harsh, agonizing truth.

Elita's voice cut over the engine hum. "Do you wish you didn't send the AllSpark into space?"

He flinched as though the question stabbed his Spark. "You are asking me if I'm willing to trade you and Mikaela for my world."

Elita clasped her hands around the Matrix necklace and took a deep breath.

"That's _home_ to you. Losing your home sucks." Her eyes glimmered with tears. "I watched mom go through it, and it's--"

He simulated a sigh. "Elita--"

She clutched her necklace and talked over him. "Dad, it's okay with me if you regret the launch. That doesn't make you a bad person, it makes you alive. You don't have to feel guilty about regretting what you did. Just...regret it and to heck with everything else. The Doctor said it best on TV! 'Sometimes the only decisions you have are bad ones, but you still have to choose.'"

Unselfish love was painful. Elita wielded it masterfully in a manner beyond her twelve years. Mikaela told herself to be brave while she mentally approached it. She watched it launch itself into her chest, and the words she spoke emerged from her mouth like thick, black smoke.

"I'm with El on this one."

Optimus gathered Mikaela and Elita in his hands and held them gently against his chest. Right over his Spark. He gazed down with an honesty that almost hurt to behold.

"I regret the launch." Finally, he had permission to say it out loud. His voice quavered into static when he went on, "I have many regrets, but you will never be among them."

"I know." Elita clung to his armor.

He gazed straight ahead at the stars. "Lennox spoke with me about Max a short time ago. Max had a GoPro camera mounted on his jeep. There is video evidence of his encounter with all of us, including his attempt on Elita's life. Lennox said it was clear that my blaster discharged in error and wishes to rule Max's death as accidental. He destroyed the video footage to protect our family, and he intends to come up with a cover story for Max's death."

Mikaela touched the V-shaped metal flap between his chest plates. "Good."

"See, dad?" Elita patted the side of his face. "It was an accident."

"Accident or not, a family is going to suffer. Grief is a pain I wish on no one."

Typical Optimus-- selfless to a fault.

Mikaela stayed silent because he spoke the painful truth. Like her, he had to endure his unresolved regrets without absolution. There was nothing she could do except bear his pain with him.

.o

No rainstorm shielded Nevada's starry skies when the Autobot ship descended onto the salt flat inside Area 51. Ultra Magnus used the ship's engines to deliver an electromagnetic pulse that disrupted all active recording devices within a thirty mile radius. The images people captured would be too grainy to prove anything and protect Area 51's secrets.

The Autobots, Elita and Mikaela stayed aboard the ship overnight. It was easier than making the Area 51 crew scramble to come up with sleeping arrangements in the barracks.

Mikaela looked everywhere for Optimus, but she didn't find him in the human accessible areas. That left the medical bay on the lower level. She had Bumblebee activate the elevator for her.

Drift relaxed in the lotus position against the wall opposite to the narrow door. He acknowledged her with a terse nod, which she returned.

Optimus lay prone across the stretcher on the medical bay floor. As usual, he bent his right leg and tucked his left forearm underneath his cheek like a recumbent feline. His half-open optics flickered at two different speeds, yet his expression remained peaceful and his body motionless.

Gratitude formed a lump in Mikaela's throat. For the first time in years, she was able to stay close to Optimus while he recharged without fear of getting hurt. She stroked the fingertips of his left hand and pressed a light kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"It should be noted," Drift's smooth, low-pitched voice hardly disturbed the quiet, "You cannot rouse him during an activation glitch the way you can during typical compression and consolidation."

Nodding, Mikaela tip-toed towards the door. "What exactly is the immobilizer doing?"

Drift turned his right hand palm-up, "Conscious experience creates plasma activity throughout a bot's laminates."

Next, he flipped his left hand over, "Activity in the laminates disappears during the defragmentation phase of recharge. Under normal circumstances, it stays restricted to low-level pathways related to reading memory files during the compression and consolidation phase."

He touched the heels of his palms against each other. "Activation glitches 'leak' activity into the motor slides of our laminates. The body detects this activity and thinks it is having a conscious experience when the processor is reading a memory file. You can't wake a bot from this state because their body believes it is fully conscious, and it will ignore outside stimuli as irrelevant and unreal. The laminate activity responsible for storing memories is absent, which is why a bot cannot recall their nightmare behavior later."

Finally, he closed his hands together as if in prayer. "The immobilizer senses this uneven activation and blocks impulses from reaching the motor laminates. It deactivates again as soon as the abnormal activity stops, and it will not activate if a glitch is not present. Such as now. Look. If you try to rouse him, he will wake."

Optimus grunted and shifted himself slightly. His optics flickered at the same speed. Air turbulence caused faint rattling noises in his intakes, a sound like somebody plucking an old spring-mounted doorstop.

Mikaela couldn't recall the last time she heard him snore, nor did she realize how much she missed that cute little noise until she heard him do it again.

"I kept telling myself he's not 'there' for the nightmares. The way he acted was so human. Standing back and not doing anything to help felt _cruel_."

She pushed her fingers through her hair and grasped her scalp.

"Compassion compels you as strongly as it compels Prime." Points of light glided across Drift's sharpest edges. He clasped his hands over his chest. "Sometimes the worst suffering is watching someone else suffer, and sometimes the greatest relief is granting relief to another."

"Well, this is huge." She faced him fully, her eyes brimming with tears. "Drift, I can't thank you enough."

Drift settled his hands on his knees and nodded once.

"Prime came to my rescue when nobody else considered my life worth saving." His golden-hued face plates quirked in a half-smile when he met Mikaela's eyes. "So it is only right that I return the favor."

Nodding, she said, "I hope Cybertron's views on mental illness change. You guys finding out...it kinda became his worst fear."

"Knowing Prime, it _will_." Drift's half-smile became a full one that softened his serious features. The face of a bot no longer burdened by secrecy. "That kind of fear is a prison. The most courageous thing a person can do is open the door and reveal the state of their cell."

"And realize there's nothing to be ashamed of?"

"Precisely. And speaking of rest..." He eyed her shrewdly, "You seem in desperate need of it."

"It's been a hellish few days." Mikaela eyed Optimus once more. She refocused on Drift and glanced upward. "Mind giving me a ride up?"

He offered his hand. "Gladly, Mikaela."

Elita was dead to the world on Cade's abandoned air mattress. Mikaela snickered at her daughter sleeping in almost exactly the same pose as Optimus. She laid down after Drift departed and went right to sleep without changing out of her clothes.

.o

The alarm on Mikaela's phone beeped at seven o'clock sharp. She woke to find Elita's belongings already packed. Quiet voices murmured just outside the crate-turned-bedroom.

"...as humans tend to ask, why the cold shoulder?" Ultra Magnus asked.

Mikaela sat up and peered through the slats. Elita and Ultra Magnus-- rather, Ultra Magnus' human-sized hologram-- stood together with their backs to the crate.

"It's _really_ stupid." Elita kept tucking her loose hair behind her ears. "It shouldn't bother me. It's-- it's irrational."

Ultra Magnus chuckled softly. He cupped his elbow with one hand while raising the other to his face. Probably holding his chin between thumb and forefinger.

"There is an old Rustian saying-- _Tru lan tia ingam vong eslu nenen_. 'Unexpressed emotions scream the loudest.' That sounds like your situation."

Elita wiped her hair behind her ears again and stuck her hands into the back pockets of her faded jean shorts. She fidgeted when she wasn't being honest about something. Maybe, this case, she avoided being honest with herself. Anybody could see it ate her alive inside. A feeling Mikaela understood all too well.

 _C'mon, El, spit it out. You don't want to regret not saying it_.

Ultra Magnus edged closer to Elita, his voice quiet, "Have I hurt your feelings in some way?"

She flinched, hunching her shoulders. "No. Yeah. Kind of. But not on purpose. See?" Her voice cracked, "It's _stupid_."

He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Your tears say otherwise."

Elita swiped the tears off her cheeks and shouted, "I like you, Mags!"

Light bulbs alit inside Mikaela's brain. Aha! Suddenly, a lot of Elita's earlier reactions made perfect sense.

But the vernacular sailed over Ultra Magnus' head.

"I like you, too."

"No! I don't mean friends-like!" Elita grabbed the hem of her gray hoodie. "I _like_ you, but you _like_ Crosshairs!"

Ultra Magnus' brow ridges went up, but he didn't look too surprised. Elita's confession uncorked her feelings, so they burst out like champagne foam.

"I wanted to dance with you on my high school prom night instead of some random stupid boy. I wanted you to give me my first kiss. I wanted to grow up and have us be like my parents. But I'm a third wheel, you're going home to Cybertron, and I don't know what to do with my life anymore! I'm not mad at you, Mags, I'm just...I'm-- ugh! See? I told you that it's stupid!"

She turned away, crossed her arms and sniffled.

A moment passed in silence while Ultra Magnus absorbed what she said. Servos whirred when he stepped around in front of her and knelt to equalize their heights. Tender compassion shone in his optics.

"Humans call them 'crushes' for a reason, Elita. Your pain isn't stupid. It matters, and your feeling matter. They show you have a heart, and I am truly sorry for causing it pain."

He held her hand and went on, "Many of us in our youth imagine an unattainable somebody sweeping them away..."

"...like Crosshairs did to you?" Elita asked, wiping her face on her sleeve.

"Not quite, but it was mutual when we realized how we felt about each other. Sometimes romance happens fairy tale way, but sometimes isn't _always_." Ultra Magnus' optics twinkled when he smiled up at her. "Experiences are moments, Elita. A crush is a moment compared to the rest of your life. You have decades to gain experience and find the right person."

She set her hands on his shoulders and playfully goosed his left audio, causing the antenna to retract halfway. "Can we have a moment, then, and I'll figure out the rest of my life later?"

He cocked his head, glanced above the crate and refocused on her.

"Yes, we can, but it must be done properly. We can't afford to quarter-aft this."

That won a giggle through her dejection. "Half-ass, you mean?"

"Rustians say 'quarter-aft'." He arched a brow ridge. "It means the same thing."

Faint piano strains of _A Thousand Years_ by Christina Perri floated through the air, and Mikaela became privy to the sweetest scene.

Ultra Magnus straightened, executed a sweeping bow and offered Elita his hand. "May I have this dance, milady?"

 _"Heart beats fast, colors and promises_. __  
How to be brave, how can I love when I'm afraid to fall? __  
But watching you stand alone, __  
all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow, _  
one step closer_... _"_

Elita placed her hand on his palm. Ultra Magnus' fingers closed protectively around hers and guided her closer. Her head was exactly level with the middle of his chest, just like Crosshairs. He perched his other hand between her shoulder blades. She wrapped her free arm around his waist and kept her face hidden from view.

The song's rhythm shifted into the chorus, and they moved with it.

 _"_... _I have died every day waiting for you_. __  
Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you __  
for a thousand years. _  
I'll love you for a thousand more_... _"_

"Your whole life is still unfolding in front of you, Elita," said Ultra Magnus. "Love is an extremely complicated emotion, like a fractal. You'll zoom in and see more of its complexities as you get older."

"Everybody says I'll understand when I'm older. When I do I count as 'older', huh?"

He closed his optics and bowed his head. "It's different for everyone."

"Then gimme a head-start." She wrinkled her nose. "How do you tell love apart from a crush?"

Ultra Magnus twirled her around and brought her close again. "Love is two people who still feel like they have a crush on each other after a long time. And that is the simplest explanation I can give for something so exceedingly complex, my dear."

The troubled look on Elita's face transformed into resolve. Her tears slowed although they didn't entirely stop.

Rather than mourn what couldn't be, she accepted what was and gave herself completely to the moment. She stopped hiding her face in Ultra Magnus' stomach and gazed upward at his face instead.

"Thanks, Mags."

He patted her back affectionately. "You're welcome."

They swayed and twirled, lost in their own little world.

 _"...Time stands still_ , __  
beauty in all she is.  
_I will be brave_ , __  
I will not let anything take away.  
_Standing in front of me_. __  
Every breath,  
_every hour has come to this_... _"_

Ultra Magnus knelt and gently brushed the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Here it comes, Elita. Close your eyes."

Elita took a deep breath. She swallowed nervously when she shut her eyes and, humorously, puckered her lips. Ultra Magnus chuckled, leaned in and kissed her. A chaste kiss that looked no different than the smooches she exchanged with Optimus, but this one had a very different and special meaning to her.

Mikaela snapped a picture of the kiss with her phone, captioned it _El's first kiss_ , and sent it to Optimus. The message he texted back said to look to her left. Blue and silver gleamed behind the slats in the metal crate. He saw everything from the doorway.

Ultra Magnus and Elita went right back to their waltz. Elita looked amusingly gob-smacked.

 _"_... _One step closer_... _  
One step closer_... _"_

Mikaela tip-toed into the gap between the crate opening and the wall. Optimus' optics softened when she met his gaze. He looked at her that way the first time he asked her to dance. Though she could never again be the eighteen year old girl who danced with him on her prom night, she laid her palm over her heart and welcomed a resurgence of the fluttery feeling she experienced that evening.

A smile slowly unfolded on Optimus' features like stars appearing after sunset. He nodded knowingly and placed a hand against his chest as if containing something too powerful for words.

Like a crush, but better.

 _"_... _and all along I believed I would find you_.  
_Time has brought your heart to me_ ;  
_I have loved you for a thousand years_.  
_I'll love you for a thousand more_. _"_

"So..." Ultra Magnus still held Elita's hand. "Friends?"

Elita nodded and beamed up at him, her cheeks still flushed pink. "I'm never gonna forget that."

"Me, either." He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Crosshairs shuffled past Optimus, sat down and peered at Elita through playful squinty optics. "A little birdie told me you're stealin' Maggie."

Her face went redder than a fresh garden tomato. She snootily turned her head to the side and waved a hand. "As _if!_ "

Mikaela barely covered an unladylike snort. Optimus squeezed his optics shut and bent halfway forward to contain his own mirth.

And Elita busted them both.

"Oh, my God... Dad! Mom! Were you watching _the whole time?_ "

"Watching what?" Mikaela tucked her phone away, "I didn't see anything. Optimus?"

"I recharged standing up. What transpired during my nap?"

"Augh! Seriously?" Elita wiped both hands down her face and sighed. "Lupe was right. Parents are embarrassing when you hit twelve!"

That broke it. Everybody burst out laughing, Elita included.

Mikaela used their mirth to sneak up on Ultra Magnus and tap his shoulder. "Yo, Mags."

"Gah!" He spun towards her, still chuckling. "Hello."

"Hi," she said, and pulled him into a hug. "You went through all kinds of hell getting us here. I'll be the world's biggest jerk if I forget to say thanks."

Ultra Magnus' shoulders relaxed with a soft hiss. He returned her embrace. "Guarding you and Elita has been an honor and a privilege. I should be thanking _you_."

Mikaela tightened her hold. Cybertronians didn't 'squish' into hugs like humans, so she almost knocked the air out of herself. "We both said thanks. I think we're even."

He chuckled in her ear, and she understood what Elita saw in him. She kissed his cheek before stepping back to look into his optics.

"Take care of yourself, okay? I won't be around to pull tumbleweeds out of your undercarriage when you're on Cybertron."

Ultra Magnus pulled her close, gave her a friendly peck on the cheek and replied, "Not to worry. I'll have Crosshairs stuck there instead, and I consider that the opposite of a problem."

Hearing prim and proper Ultra Magnus unleash a dirty joke stole the lump from Mikaela's throat and replaced it with laughter.

"I waited twelve years to get that out of you," she giggled. " _Twelve_ years!"

Crosshairs looked up at the sound of his name. "I bring out the worst in Maggie." He waggled his brow ridges and parted his mouth plates in a robot grin.

"That you do." Ultra Magnus offered Mikaela a light squeeze and stepped back. "It's almost time for you to depart."

"Yup." Mikaela patted his cheek. Her spirits soared too high for tears. This wasn't a sad farewell. "See you around, Mags."

Elita dodged past Optimus' feet to give Ultra Magnus one more hug, and he was happy to oblige her.

"Thanks, Mags. Love you."

"You're welcome, Elita. Love you, too."

"How do you say it in Rustian?"

He hesitated, smiled softly and cupped the back of her head. " _Bah ethsteo nini_."

.o

Early morning sunlight ripped into the darkness of the Autobot ship's interior. Mikaela and Elita flanked Optimus, who was currently in vehicle mode. The other Autobots had already rolled out and surrounded the white Area 51 "Bluebird" bus. Its tinted windows offered no hints about what or who awaited inside.

Drift sat behind the rear of the bus. Crosshairs and Ultra Magnus were at its left, while Bumblebee and Hound hung out on its right. The bus, Hound and Ultra Magnus were the only vehicles that appeared to "belong" there.

Elita joined Mikaela at the top of the ship's ramp. She wriggled out of her gray hoodie and tied it around her waist. Underneath, she wore a loose dark green crop top depicting Fox McCloud from the _Star Fox_ franchise standing next to his Arwing.

"You look nerdy today," Mikaela remarked.

"Like you should talk," Elita snorted. "Great choice for a desert, mom."

Mikaela glanced down at Wile E. Coyote on the front of her gray tank top. The back had the Road Runner. They were posed as if Wile E. chased the Road Runner in circles around her body. Weather reports predicted high temperatures, so she threw on her shortest cutoff shorts and ratty white Converse sneakers without socks to keep cool.

She smirked and struck a fake pose. "Looney Tunes are old school, kid."

"Well, you got the _old_ part right."

"Excuse you!" Mikaela playfully tapped Elita's nose with her fingertip.

"Hey!" Elita dodged, giggling, "You _made_ me, remember?"

"Yup. Every year on your birthday."

Their antics paused when faint light shot off the Autobot symbol on Optimus' grill and spread out to become his human-sized hologram. Watching him do that never got boring.

"There's the biggest nerd of all. Nerdimus Prime," Elita whispered in Mikaela's ear.

Mikaela nearly choked on her spit. She walked a few steps away to conceal her laughter behind coughing.

Optimus folded his arms, but his expression was far from serious. "Someone is mouthy today."

"Yeah, it's my job to be annoying." Elita said back. Her emotions executed a backflip. "I wish you could come with us."

Pre-teen mood swings were asshole older siblings to the terrible twos. They brought hormones, growth spurts and mountains of awkwardness. Luckily, Optimus mastered the art of rolling with them and adjusted his demeanor accordingly.

"I understand your frustration, sweet-Spark." He brushed her bangs aside, briefly revealing the Prime symbol port-wine stain at her hairline. "There is a lot of work to do on Cybertron. Territory must be secured. Resources have to be allocated--"

"So it's a big ball of wibbly wobbly Primey wimey stuff?"

The _Doctor Who_ reference didn't get past him. He laughed. "That is exactly what I need to do."

She dropped her bag and threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. He returned her embrace, one hand gently cupping the back of her head.

"Why can't you do the space bridge thing with your hologram while you're on Cybertron?" asked Elita.

"I'm not floating in space anymore. I need to focus on, as you said, Primey wimey stuff. But phone calls and video chats won't be outside the realm of possibility."

"At least it won't run up a huge bill." A forlorn sigh escaped her. "Are you coming back for Christmas?"

Disappointment etched itself on his features. "That is very unlikely, but I give you my word that I will be there on your birthday."

Elita held up her little finger. "Pinkie promise?"

"Pinkie promise." Optimus hooked his pinkie around hers and they shook on it.

"Okay. Oh! Almost forgot to give this back." She tugged her necklace out from under her crop top.

He covered her hand with his. "No."

"Dad, it's the Matrix of Leadership. You need it."

Optimus knelt to her level. "Has it spoken to you?"

"Yeah. A couple of times. The first time...whoa!"

Realization flashed across Elita's eyes. She looked over her shoulder at Mikaela.

"Mom! Remember the bathroom at Joe's? I heard everything you and Ultra Magnus said to each other. The Matrix said the Great Deceiver can't lay a hand on me because Prima is my shield. Then it told me the story I wrote all over the walls. I thought it was a glyph attack like at the picnic because it felt the same as one."

Optimus' expression softened. "Prima was my mother."

Elita grabbed Optimus' shoulders and gave him a shake. "He loves you so much, dad. He was trying to warn you about Quintessa to protect you, and he got me instead!"

"Oh, sweet-Spark." He curled his index finger and gently brushed it across her cheek. "I was so blinded by my own anger that I wouldn't have listened. Now I am even more relieved that I entrusted it to you. Perhaps you are more worthy of it than I right now."

A frown creased Elita's brow. "Does that mean I out-Primed you?"

Amusement chased the sadness off Optimus' face. He ducked his head with a quiet chuckle.

"I suppose so."

She crinkled her nose. "It doesn't bug you?"

"No. I'm _proud_ to be, as you say, out-Primed by a squirt like you."

The rambunctious smiles they flashed at each other were eerie mirror images.

"Well, you better ask for it back soon." Elita sighed, "I don't feel ready to carry it."

"Fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing, Elita. Sometimes, it forces us to question who we are." He clutched his chest as though speaking that truth pained his Spark. Rather than dwell on it, he placed his hand over her heart. "And sometimes, if we are lucky, it shows us all we can be."

Elita rested her hand on his. "Don't let Quintessa's crap get to you, dad. You're not a bad person. The nasty douchecanoes out there-- people like Max and Quintessa-- are always gonna make you the villain in their stories so they can be the hero. Let them lie to themselves! They're losers who don't know anything and wouldn't know a hero if one bit their butt."

She caught herself mid-rant and slammed the brakes on her temper. "Who cares what mean people say? You'll always be the hero in _my_ story."

Optimus' face became an emotional phantasmagoria, each expression lasting less than a second, until he settled on the same wonder he wore when she was born.

"And you, Elita..." He turned his hand around and held hers. "You will always be the best part of mine."

She smiled softly, tracing the Prime sigil engraved on his helm. "I love you, dad."

Optimus mirrored her softness and thumbed her chin. "I love you, too, sweet-Spark, more than you know."

They bumped foreheads, nuzzled noses, gave each other a light smooch on the mouth and hugged tightly.

Elita draped her duffle bag strap over her shoulder. Optimus winked at her. She giggled and sprinted down the ramp at a cringe-inducing pace.

Mikaela slid her fingertips along Optimus' wrist until her warm palm pressed into his cool metal one. They closed their hands at the same time, their interlocking fingers trapping an intangible latibule between their palms.

"Look at her," she said. "We made that."

"Mmhmm," Optimus murmured, watching Elita skip towards the bus. The joy in his voice didn't match his melancholy optics. "I blinked the day she was born, and now she is twelve. I don't want my next blink to be her grave."

Fate wielded time as a lasso destined to steal them away from each other. A lump stung in Mikaela's throat. She turned and hugged him tight, silently warning Fate to keep its distance until she was good and ready to meet it. His arms swung up to pull her closer. Warm air hissed through his vents.

"I'll outlive her, even if I have to live to be a hundred to do it." Mikaela swore that oath to herself. In his audio, she whispered. "Even then, we're still lightning to you. Here and gone."

"The beauty of lightning is its brevity." He pressed her closer, careful not to squeeze the air out of her lungs. "It strikes, it leaves a mark, and thunder tells the universe it was there."

She pulled back far enough to see his optics. "You'll be a hell of a thunderclap."

He slipped his hands off her shoulder blades and cupped her face. The dim sorrow in his optics morphed into the soft smile he saved only for her.

"And you will be a hell of a story."

Mikaela's heart flipped inside her chest. "Good."

She inclined her head at the same time his face inched closer to hers. Static snapped between them. Baby lightning. They jumped apart, laughed and leaned in for a proper kiss.

The other Autobots honked their horns, cat-called and flashed their lights.

Optimus raised his left hand in a thumbs up. Mikaela lifted her right one and flipped them off. That instigated _more_ howling and honking.

"Yeah! The Boss is gettin' some!" Crosshairs yelled.

"You have teenage boys for a crew," Mikaela teased.

"It would appear so." He looked breathless, quite a feat for somebody who didn't have lungs.

She smirked. "Let's give 'em a show."

Optimus waggled his brow ridges. "As you wish."

He dipped her dramatically. She threw an arm around his neck for added balance. Their fierce kiss warned Fate to keep its distance because it had no business deciding when their dance ended.

The honking, hooting and howling got louder. Crosshairs revved his engine, cackling.

Mikaela held onto Optimus' upper arms as they straightened. She didn't speak until the Autobots got the goofiness out of their systems and quieted down.

"You know...that chat you had with the Autobots? I think it did more for you than the last couple years put together."

"Don't leave yourself out of the equation." Optimus brushed his lips against her brow. "You have sacrificed your sleep, your well-being and your time to care for me in my time of need. I got this far because of you, Mikaela. I can't thank you enough for that. _You_ brought light to my darkest hours."

Mikaela's heart swelled at the honesty in his gaze. She smiled softly, cocking her head. "For better or for worse, in sickness and in health. I meant those vows."

"You did more than that, wifey." He mirrored her expression. "You kept them."

The concerns screaming in Mikaela's mind laid down to sleep. Oh, they would wake up again-- they always did-- but right now she had them quiet.

Then Optimus gestured vaguely towards the bus.

"The driver will transport you to Alamo, where I have a very early Christmas present waiting for you." He winked at her. "I spoke to Agent Simmons. He helped me arrange it."

Mikaela blinked. "What did you do?"

A wicked squint narrowed his optics. "You'll see."

"You're horrible."

"You taught me well."

They hugged each other, chuckling. He quieted first. Warm air escaped the vents in his neck. She tucked her face against his shoulder and breathed his familiar metallic scent.

"What's next after you get Cybertron up and running?"

"We rebuild, just like you will." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "Unfortunately, our relationship may become long distance for many years."

A selfish corner of Mikaela's mind screeched in protest. Fortunately, her more rational half yelled louder. Optimus' time in space accustomed her to this possibility. But thinking about it and _living_ it were night and day. The internal conflict stung her eyes.

She straightened and met his optics. "Then I guess we have to make the times we hang out count, don't we?"

"Yes, and there will be many phone calls."

"Yup. Just like when I was in school."

He smiled affectionately and brushed an errant tear off her cheek.

She kissed his thumb. "Don't forget to be awesome when you get back to Cybertron, okay?"

"I'm Primed and ready to handle it."

"Optimus, that is the worst dad joke ever."

"Worse than the Prime ribs joke?"

"Totally."

They touched foreheads and burst into snickers. Mikaela realized they were stalling when they spent ages looking into each others' eyes. Neither wanted to make the first move to leave.

But Optimus finally did. He hugged her close again, surrounding her in the porcelain warmth of his armor.

"Mmh, Mikaela." His alluring baritone voice sent delightful shivers racing up her spine. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She leaned up towards his audio cover and cooed. "Stay awesome, boss bot."

He chuckled at that. "I will, for you."

They exchanged a long, slow kiss. This time, nobody hooted or honked.

Optimus passed Mikaela her bags. His hologram disappeared as soon as she took them off his hands. She walked down the ramp and climbed aboard the white bus while he pulled ahead of it.

The bus driver was a statuesque Asian lady wearing desert camouflage fatigues. She wore her parted hair in a tight bun and surgically precise eyeliner highlighted her coal colored eyes.

"Mind the step and take a seat in the back row," said the driver. She had a smooth voice and a British accent.

Mikaela joined Elita at the rear of the bus. Brakes hissed and the vehicle lurched into motion. All the Autobots escorted the bus across the white salt flat. One by one, they slowed and fell away. Optimus veered off first, followed by Bumblebee, Drift, Hound and Crosshairs.

Ultra Magnus pulled onto the road. Twelve years ago, Optimus asked him to watch over and protect Elita. Ultra Magnus placed his duty above all else, and his last act as her guardian was following her to Area 51's back gate.

Elita lowered a window in the back row, stood on the seat and poked her head out to wave. Mikaela opened the window on the opposite side and waved, too. Ultra Magnus flashed his lights at them.

"Close the windows," said the bus driver.

They did it without question. Open tinted windows didn't allow for much secrecy.

Mikaela and Elita looked at each other afterward. They laughed at their messy hair.

"Excuse me, miss? Is it okay to use my phone?" Mikaela politely regarded the bus driver. "I won't take any pictures."

"Termination is the least of my concerns," came the terse reply, "Do as you please."

_Geez, who pissed in her cornflakes this morning?_

Mikaela grabbed her phone, swiped through her photos and texted Elita the shot of her first kiss. Watching her daughter's face turn redder than beets chased away farewell's sadness.

Elita flicked her thumbs across her screen. Mikaela received several texts in a row. She checked them. A dozen photos showing her and Optimus kissing at the top of the ramp popped up.

She glanced at Elita, who pointed at her as if to say _yeah, I totally did that_.

"Okay, you got me." Mikaela jokingly accepted defeat.

The amusement on Elita's face melted. She covered her mouth and shut off her phone. "Oh crap, I broke the rules...I wasn't supposed to take those pictures."

"El, you can't tell where we are. The giant fricken UFO blocks the view."

"Whatever." A sigh caused Elita's shoulders to rise and fall. "My social life is going to be a mess when we get home. How am I going to explain we stayed away from a stalker for practically a month?"

Dust billowed past the bus windows.

"That's easy," said Mikaela. She rubbed the back of her neck, yawning. "The stalker boyfriend kept harassing us, so we ran to Tranquility and got mixed up in the earthquake and tsunami."

Mentioning her ruined hometown stung like ketchup on a canker sore. She risked seeing if the internet worked on her phone. It did, so she thumbed through several news sites.

Disasters struck all over the world, just like Ultra Magnus predicted. Some hit home. California was a mess thanks to Cascadia and San Andreas. The central and eastern regions didn't suffer quite as much as the coasts and southern portions of the state. Most damage was structural, with collapsing old buildings, broken gas mains, limited access to water, loss of electricity, roads ripped apart and landslides blocking streets. Disneyland and California Adventure were closed during the day for the first time in forever.

Yellowstone's supervolcano didn't make a peep. The New Madrid fault hadn't slipped.

Other areas weren't so lucky. Dozens of vents opened across the Hawaiian islands. They were taking a bath in lava. Atmospheric disturbances triggered severe supercell thunderstorms across central USA's infamous tornado alley. El Reno's record-breaking twister paled in comparison to the massive mile-and-a-half wide F5 currently tearing through Stillwater, Oklahoma.

Italy had a bad day. Mount Vesuvius blew out its biggest eruption in known history. Naples and the areas near it suffered the same fate as Pompeii in 79 AD. The sole difference was people evacuated in time to survive.

India, Sumatra and Indonesia shook from an 8.4 magnitude earthquake and tsunami. A huge 9.3 quake-tsunami combo nailed Chile. And Japan, still hurting from the 2011 catastrophe, faced the same 9.1 scenario again. Mikaela's heart ached.

Egypt's pyramids were scraped off the map by a chunk of Cybertron. Jordan, England, Britain, Russia, China, India, Siberia and both Koreas lost entire cities. A piece of Cybertron narrowly avoided the Dome of the Rock and the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. The Eurasian continent had the worst physical damage and highest death toll.

 _We survived a freaking apocalypse_. Mikaela shut her phone off. The pictures were too depressing and her brain couldn't wrap itself around the scale of it. She felt like a jerk for hoping the cabin survived it all when people across the globe lost everything.

"The world's a mess," Elita remarked.

"Yeah."

"But _we're_ alive. Dad always says where there's life, there's hope." She fiddled with her phone. "This is what hope looks like."

Somebody on Youtube compiled news stories featuring Ultra Magnus rescuing people from the tsunami in Tranquility.

Most of the newscasters' responses could be summed up in one message: " _It's a Transformer...and it's helping!_ "

"'It?'" Mikaela rolled her eyes.

"Watch, mom."

The compilation cut to an NBC news clip of the guy with the electric wheelchair.

Kevin Yazzie was a young Native American man with wide-set brown eyes and a sharp smile. He had athetoid cerebral palsy, which caused his body to make involuntary writhing movements. Soft blue straps on his wheelchair kept his arms and legs from flailing upward each time he moved. His brow furrowed as he used eye gaze technology to access the iPad mounted on his wheelchair. Moments later, a strong tenor voice spoke.

_"The van stopped moving and this giant robot was outside my window. I was afraid of him because of the engravings all over his body, but he made no move to hurt me or my sisters. My sisters had to take me out of my wheelchair to get me into his hand because the water didn't let us open the van's doors. I stopped feeling scared when I felt how careful he was to help me not fall into the water. My sisters told the robot not to forget my wheels. I looked up at the robot after my sisters put me in my chair, and I asked him, 'You aren't leaving me behind?'"_

An off-screen reporter asked, _"Really? Did he talk back to you?"_

Kevin glanced at the iPad, then at the reporter. _"Yeah! He said, 'Not today, brother.' But that isn't what makes it special."_

_"What made it special?"_

A bright grin lit Kevin's handsome face. _"He said it in Navajo."_

The clip ended there. Elita raised her eyebrows at Mikaela and put her phone away. "Everybody Mags rescued that day is gonna have a story to tell for the rest of their lives. People on the internet are already calling him the Tsunami Robot."

Mikaela snorted at that. "You should tell 'em his real name."

"Nah." Elita shook her head. "He doesn't want that. He told me not to tell dad what he did, either. It's a Rustian thing. Crosshairs said Mags is really traditional about that. Something like people who commit heroic acts are cool with recognition when somebody official witnesses it, but heroic acts that don't get recognized stand on their own as stories told by whoever was saved."

"Wow."

Mikaela glanced out the back window at Ultra Magnus trailing behind the bus. Guilt nipped at her mind. _She_ mentioned it when she told Optimus what he missed while away from Earth, and she was slightly irked that he never publicly acknowledged it.

Heat waves turned the distant Area 51 guard shacks into wavering specks. Noise from the bus engine drowned the world out as the vehicle accelerated.

Ultra Magnus slowed down after the bus sped up. He blew his horn twice. The sound carried as he shrank with distance until he became nothing more than a pale glimmer beneath the mountains.

Elita rubbed her eyes. An unexpected lump welled in Mikaela's throat. She swallowed past it and faced forward where the future awaited.

Area 51's back gates opened to allow the bus through and lowered again after it passed. Light brown dust blew by the rear windows. Pebbles crackled against hubcaps and wheel wells. Air conditioning kept the day's heat away, yet the dry dusty desert smell still permeated the vehicle's interior.

Weird thumps sounded under the floor. Equipment stashed in the cargo compartment? A body? An _alien?_ Mikaela covered a yawn and shook her head. Spotty sleep was warping her mind.

The ride got smoother once the driver turned onto the famed Extraterrestrial Highway. Sunlight illuminated Elita's face. Her blonde highlights needed touching up, but that seemed unimportant in the scheme of things.

Mikaela glanced out the window on her side. Nothing but tan desert, charcoal black highway, craggy grayish-brown mountains, golden sun and clear azure skies.

"Dad said he's thinking about sending Autobots out to help with the worst damage," Elita sighed. "I'm kinda scared about that."

"Why? TRF is sunk."

"So, what? There are people who want somebody to hate and blame for all this."

"Then start a 'not all Transformers' hashtag on Twitter."

"Somebody already did," Elita giggled, "Some guy named RoboWarrior7."

 _Simmons_. Mikaela still thought that guy was a perverted jackass.

Growling engine noises offered a dull background drone to accompany the vast loneliness outside. Time ticked by at a snail's pace.

The bus decelerated as it approached Crystal Springs and slowed to a halt. Trees lined the highway, their greenery a nice break from the endless rocky landscape. Highway 375 intersected with highway 318, forming a Y shape separated via dirt in the middle. Mikaela spotted a few vehicles parked near the trees beyond the Y intersection. One sat angled in such a way that the sun bounced painfully off its windshield, making it impossible to identify its color or shape.

Elita jiggled her right leg while she gazed straight ahead, her hands tightly gripping the seat she sat on.

"El?" Mikaela hedged.

"What?" Elita blinked at her.

"You zoned out."

She tapped her necklace. "Nah. I was listening."

"What did it s--"

"We have arrived at the designated coordinates," said the bus driver, who pulled the lever that flopped the bus doors open.

This didn't look like Alamo. Not even close.

Sweat prickled around Mikaela's hairline and under her arms. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. She inhaled deeply, fingers clenching around her duffle bag handle.

"Mom," Elita whispered. Her eyebrows settled in a determined line.

Mikaela glanced at the driver. "Something's not right."

"I know." The look in Elita's eyes was frightening. "Take my bag. Get off the bus." She said it in the same snotty tone she used while being defiant.

"Excuse you?" Mikaela hissed back in her quietest and most threatening 'I am your mom' voice. "Don't order me around, kid."

"I'm not. The Matrix is." Elita winced and curled her hands by her ears as if to shut out a loud voice. "It wants you to get off the bus first. It's important, mom. Please."

"Are you going to disembark?" asked the driver.

"Yeah," said Mikaela. "Just a sec."

Elita hopped off her seat. Mikaela shouldered her daughter's duffle bag and draped her own on her left forearm. Thumps vibrated the floor beneath her feet while she shuffled forward. She passed the driver, veered right and paused to look back for Elita.

The bus driver grabbed Elita's wrist. "Give it to me."

Blue-white electricity zapped her hand. She shrieked in surprise and recoiled.

"You can't touch it," Elita said. She faced the woman and her calm voice rose to an irate snarl, "And if you ever touch my dad again, **_I'll kill you!_** "

The driver unpinned her bun and her hair flew up around her face. Her pupils flashed purple. Blue light suffused her translucent irises. She levitated three inches above the bus floor. Liquescent silver plating replaced her perfect human skin and billowy black hair. Writhing metal tentacles burst off her lower body like a skirt of nightmares spilling into the bus aisle.

Elita drew this figure many times throughout her childhood. Her scribbling went through several iterations until she scrawled the deceptively exquisite figure Mikaela stared at in horrified awe.

"So, one legend meets another." Quintessa bent forward until her face hovered inches from Elita's. She smiled. Even her scintillating silver teeth looked unsettlingly humanlike. "Your eyes are exactly the same color as his optics. Interesting."

"Your point?"

Tension clenched Elita's shoulders, but she bravely held her ground. Her defiance morphed Quintessa's smile into a disdainful sneer.

"Oh, nothing. I never imagined Optimus stooping so low as to interface with a short-lived parasite." She straightened and peered down her nose at Mikaela. "You are a perfect example of why species mixing with species is detrimental to the balance of the universe."

Mikaela dropped the duffle bags on the steps and narrowed her eyes. That creature-- that floating silver monster-- was responsible for the loss of her hometown and the disasters still affecting the entire Earth. She manipulated Optimus and reinforced what Maxwell Pagonis started. Now she threatened Elita.

 _Big_ mistake.

Motherly instincts kicked in. Rage ignited under Mikaela's skin, a rage so hot it disintegrated her fear and clenched her teeth. A primal scream rose in her throat. She launched herself up the bus steps and threw her weight into Quintessa's midsection. Like tackling a tank, but she didn't care.

They both crashed against the driver's seat. Quintessa's optics opened wide. Mikaela wrapped her hands around the robotic woman's throat and slammed her head backwards against the side window. One blow wasn't enough, she did it several more times. The third blow shattered the glass. A fourth had Quintessa shrieking in rage.

" ** _BITCH!_** " Mikaela yelled between slams. "You-- worthless-- piece-- of-- shit! You-- **_AAAHHH!_** "

Pain turned everything blurry. Mikaela was suddenly against the back wall of the bus. Quintessa followed her back at a leisure pace. Her longest tentacles brushed the cushioned seats. White stuffing spewed out where their sharp edges left incisions in the cloth.

"Pitiful thing. You can't harm me!" Quintessa glowered. Blue-white energy gathered around her hands, which she drew back above her head.

Movement across the seats. Elita dove in front of Mikaela as Quintessa's hands came down.

" ** _EL!_** " Mikaela screamed.

The blast bounced off Elita and struck its owner. They both went flying. Elita slammed backwards into Mikaela. Quintessa crashed through the left windshield panel. Sparks flew when she skidded facedown on the sweltering asphalt and came to a stop several yards away.

"El, are you okay?" Mikaela gasped.

"I'm fine!" Elita coughed. "You?"

"I think-- ow-- I think so. I-- oh, shit. Hang on!"

Mikaela pushed herself to stand. Pain blossomed in her back, hips and left elbow, but she ignored it. The bus engine was still running. A glance at the controls revealed an automatic transmission. She clambered to the driver's seat, switched gears to _drive_ and stomped the gas pedal.

Acceleration shoved her against the driver's seat and nearly sent Elita tumbling. She bared her teeth. Fiery malice limned her eyes.

Quintessa sat up in time to watch nine tons of bus bash her face. She disappeared under the front bumper like a bird sucked into a jet engine. Metal screeched against the highway blacktop.

Mikaela floored it until the grinding stopped and the back tires bounced over something solid. She slammed on the brakes, lurching the vehicle to a halt on the dusty highway shoulder.

Elita scrambled for the back window. Mikaela joined her. They watched Quintessa pick herself up off the ground. She drifted towards the bus like a squid and stopped by a rear side window. Skid marks and road rash marred one side of her body, but her face took the worst of it. Murderous fury radiated off her optics.

 _How's that for 'can't hurt me', bitch?_ Mikaela sneered.

"You fools!" Quintessa bellowed, her voice partly muffled by the glass. "You have no idea what rests beneath your feet!"

"Yeah, I do. It's Unicron." Elita replied snottily.

Quintessa placed her hands against the window and leaned close enough to see inside. The scratches on her face were slowly disappearing, though the tire marks stayed.

Mikaela slid behind Elita. She scowled and defiantly raised her middle finger. Quintessa side-eyed the gesture before focusing on Elita.

"Hmph...then you know you have what I need to kill him. Give me the Matrix of Leadership, human." She sweetened her voice to make it sound like a munificent offer. "You will commit an act of noble sacrifice for the greater good."

"As if!" Elita jumped onto the seat and unlocked the window. "The answer is, and always will be, **_NO!_** "

She punched Quintessa between the eyes. The blow knocked her head back. Flickering electrical bolts suffused her armor plating. She writhed and shrieked in pain before vanishing in a thunderous burst of wind.

The bus tipped precariously and righted itself with a loud, bouncing crunch. Hot dust blasted through the open window. Elita shielded her eyes with her forearm and Mikaela turned away.

Everything became quiet. No sound beyond a light breeze and engine humming. Mikaela's breath flared her nostrils. She gazed at her daughter in a mix of pride and concern.

"El...are you okay?"

"Yeah." Elita panted, looking down at her hands. She rubbed the right one. "She teleported away."

The aftereffects of adrenaline left Mikaela's head pounding. Her muscles were trembling jelly beneath her skin. All the bruises she acquired announced their presences. Her mouth was dry.

Nausea replaced apprehension. She took three deep, slow breaths to calm her jangled nerves and the sour sensation in her stomach abated.

"Now you know what the Matrix told me," Elita sighed. Sweat glistened on her face. "Quintessa can't touch it as long as a real Prime has it. She can't send somebody else to take it off me and she can't kill me to take it because she can't use its power unless a Prime willingly gives it to her. That's why she's the Great Deceiver. She's a lying, manipulative piece of crap who makes you think you're doing the right thing by helping her."

She wiped her hands backwards over her head to smooth her rumpled bangs. "Dad was right to leave me the Matrix. Quintessa...she would've tricked him into giving it to her for sure."

Ice pulsed through Mikaela's veins. "El, if that bitch tries to use me, Optimus or anybody you know to get the Matrix off you..."

Elita looked away. "I know."

Mikaela pulled her close in a tight, protective hug.

Loud clanging pounded under the floor. Three short bangs, three bangs with pauses in between and three more short bangs.

Elita's eyes widened. "That's SOS! That's a person!"

"Oh, my God. El, turn the AC on high!"

Mikaela's whole body protested her racing into the brutal desert dryness. The asphalt and bus reflected heat like ovens. She ignored it and yanked open the cargo door. Out tumbled a wiggling burlap sack tied shut with twine. The person trapped inside flailed wildly.

"It's okay! I'm on your side!" Mikaela stepped back, "I'm going to get you out of there, okay?"

The frantic movements ceased, replaced by heavy breathing. Mikaela squatted and tugged on the twine. The knot proved too tight to crack with her fingernails.

A shard of windshield glass caught her eye. Cutting the sack wasn't an option as it risked injuring the person inside. She held the shard with the cloth top of the burlap sack while she sawed at the twine below the knot. Not a fast process, but the gradual breaking and fraying spurred her onward.

"Almost got it..." Mikaela bit her lip. Sunlight beat against her back and sweat dripped down the sides of her face. It had to be worse for the person trapped in the sack.

"Do you need help?" Elita poked her head out a window.

Mikaela finally broke through the twine. "No, I got it."

She threw aside the rope and yanked the bag down off the person's head. He was a small-ish old man with cornflower blue eyes, an outdoorsy suntan and bits of gray peppering his otherwise dark hair. Sweat absolutely soaked him from head to toe. Duct tape bound his wrists and ankles. Another strip kept a handkerchief in his mouth to muffle his yelling.

Mikaela pulled the tape off the man's face first, and instantly regretted it when she saw he had a mustache. Ouch. He didn't appear to care, he looked glad to finally spit out the soggy handkerchief.

"Oh, thank God! I thought my goose was cooked! Thank you! That lady jumped me when I came on shift. Never seen anything like that."

The man's face was so familiar, but Mikaela couldn't place it. His desert camouflage uniform had a name patch that read _P. Cullen_. She noted it while she cut the duct tape off his legs. He stood up, lifted his bound hands above his head and swung them down hard towards his ribs. The sudden separation of his wrists ripped through the duct tape on his forearms. He wobbled on his feet as he peeled the it off and dropped the pieces in the dirt.

"C'mon, Mr. Cullen, the air's on full blast inside." Mikaela shut the cargo door on the side of the bus. "El, close that window!"

Elita closed the window and ran towards the front of the bus.

"Oh, please, call me Peter," said the man-- Peter-- when he staggered into the cold bus interior and plopped down in the driver's seat.

He unfastened his jacket and took it off. Underneath, he wore a tan sweat-stained T-shirt. His skin appeared sunburned because he flushed so red in the heat.

Elita handed him an Arrowhead water bottle and aimed the air vents at him. He dumped half of it over his head before guzzling the rest. Then he coughed because he drank it too fast.

Mikaela didn't want to think about how long he suffered in the cargo hold.

"El, where did you get the water?"

"There." Elita pointed to a red and gray cooler tucked behind the driver's seat. It had enough drinks for a busload of people.

"That's mine. I like to make sure everybody stays hydrated," said Peter. He pulled out a small blue Gatorade bottle, shook it and broke the seal to take a sip. His voice sounded stronger when he spoke again. "Now I'm glad I packed it. Help yourself."

Mikaela chose water. Elita went for a red Gatorade.

"I take it you know about the bots," said Elita.

"Yep. I worked around them in Chicago a couple months before everything there went sour. People say I do a pretty good impression of their big boss Prime. Heh, funny story there. Lennox got me up on one of the catwalks when Prime was at the base. And he-- the little brat-- he called the big guy over and introduced me to him, and then he told me to do the impression right to his face!"

Elita giggled. "Did you do it?"

"Yeah! I looked him right smack in the eyes and said--" Peter dropped his voice low, "Peace is the right of all intelligent beings."

Mikaela almost spit out her water. The phrasing was off, but he had the tone and timbre spot on. He sounded _exactly_ like Optimus!

"Whoa!" Elita's jaw dropped.

"Wow." Mikaela lowered her water bottle. "How'd he take it?"

Peter's kind blue eyes crinkled in a smile. "He leaned in really close and stared me down like this..." He squinted at them with his eyebrows drawn together and relaxed it into a smile, "...then he cracked a smile and said, 'Your delivery is perfect, but the proper phrase is **_freedom_** _is the right of all **sentient** beings._'"

Heat rushed into Mikaela's face. She laughed to cover it up and capped her water bottle. "Sounds like you made a good impression on him. Pun intended."

Amusement flashed across Peter's face. "He said I should take up voice acting. That was the day I realized those robots aren't all that different from us. Then things broke up and life went on, and I got stationed here. Fast forward a couple years, and, well, here we are."

He rubbed his fingers across his mustache and suddenly snapped his fingers. "Now I know why you look familiar. Staters! You were with Prime at the time, and I didn't have a clue! And you--" He winked at Elita, "--must be the baby bump."

That clicked Mikaela's memory.

 _Sometimes her trips into town became more interesting than the drive. On a day that Optimus took her, she emerged from the market to see a short, blue-eyed man with a mustache admiring the Peterbilt idling in the parking lot. He looked around sixty or so years old, and smiled kindly at Mikaela when she slipped by to load her groceries into the passenger side_.

_"Nice rig." He said. "Show truck?"_

_"Thanks, and ah-- no. It's my boyfriend's. He just lets me drive now and then."_

_The man's kind eyes flicked to her stomach. He smiled. "Mind if I take a photo of that beauty? I have a friend down south who'd enjoy the sight."_

_Mikaela felt electricity jump through her pulse and glanced up at the idling truck. Optimus had secret signals for yes and no-- dropping his engine RPM's meant no, and speeding them up was yes_.

 _They sped up for a heartbeat_.

 _"Sure, go ahead." Mikaela climbed into Optimus' cab while the man took a quick shot with his camera phone and waved in thanks. She waved back. Then, smiling, the man walked off while dialing his phone_.

_"Hey, Frank! It's Peter. Take a gander at what I saw parked at Stater's!"_

Mikaela shot Elita a smile. "Wow, now I remember. Small world, eh?"

Peter chuckled and grasped the steering wheel. "Yup. Sure is. So how did you end up getting a ride from Prime?"

Hydraulics hissed as the bus lurched into motion. Hot, dry air wafted through the broken windshield panel. Mikaela moved over to the driver's side of the bus. Elita followed and ensconced herself in a _Tetris_ game on her phone.

"That's a really wild story." Mikaela wiped a hand through her hair. Dry sweat turned it grungy under her fingertips. "Where are we headed?"

"Alamo, where you're supposed to be. It takes about twelve minutes from here if I go full speed, but I'm leery about speeding with a broken windshield. Let's say thirty instead." Peter glanced up at them via the mirror, "Mind telling me your wild story? It'll make the miles go quicker."

"Warning, this goes into _The Shape of Water_ territory," Elita remarked.

Peter laughed at that. Mikaela lightly elbowed her mouthy daughter.

"I'll give you the abbreviated version."

A _very_ abbreviated version. She purposely left out their marriage and Optimus' paternal relationship with Elita. Those details were too dangerous to share.

"Wow," Peter said after she finished. "That should be a movie."

"Directed by Michael Bay," Elita mumbled, still nose deep in _Tetris_.

Mikaela snickered and covered a yawn. "Nah. This is fan fiction. Dudebros won't watch a robot kiss a girl. They like fights and epic explosions."

"Why not both?" Peter arched an eyebrow.

"If only," Mikaela capped her water bottle.

Peter's skin had returned to a more normal peachy-tan complexion. He didn't show any ill effects from his exposure to the heat other than looking exhausted. She hoped he had somewhere cool to lay down and sleep it off.

Signs of civilization appeared in the distance. Peter eased his foot off the gas pedal. The bus turned right behind a Chevron gas station, went straight for three blocks and hung a left into the parking lot of a white courthouse building.

Elita stashed her phone in her pocket after racking up a ridiculously high score. "Looks deserted."

"It's the time of day," Peter switched off the engine, stood up and stretched. "I have to report the broken windows, but I wanted to get you here, first. Prime sounded really concerned about your safety. Oh! Just a minute. Where did I..."

He patted all his pockets until he reached the breast pocket of his discarded jacket and passed Mikaela a key. The key ring had a crimson heart-shaped fob. He nodded vaguely towards the building.

"There's something waiting for you around back, and there's a bathroom in the building if you need it."

Gratitude welled in Mikaela's chest. She clasped both her hands around his to accept the key. "Thank you so much."

"Oh, honey, I should be thanking _you_ ," Peter mirrored her grateful expression. "I thought I was a goner."

"We both said thanks." Mikaela smiled softly. "Let's call it even."

She grabbed her duffle bag and hopped down the bus steps.

Elita shoved her duffle bag forward with her foot. "You had a bad day. Can I give you a hug?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Thank you."

Peter and Elita gave each other a tight hug. He patted her back and they both let go at the same time.

"Take care. Mind your mom."

"I will." She shouldered her duffle bag and saluted. "Peace out, dude."

He returned a more proper military salute and reached for his cell phone.

"Bathroom, now," Mikaela whispered to her.

"Yeah." Elita said back.

They scrambled inside the air-conditioned building and used the restroom. Mikaela wiped herself down with a wet paper towel to get the greasy sweat residue off her skin. She twisted around in front of the mirror to see the bruises on her lower back and elbow. They weren't as dark or angry looking as she expected.

Quintessa was still out there, totally aware of Optimus' familial relation to Elita.

How did she discover the Area 51 bus? Did she have another plan in case the Staff and the Matrix of Leadership didn't pan out? Would she go after Optimus again?

Endless questions crashed through Mikaela's mind. She barely noticed Elita emerging from a stall to wash up in the neighboring sink.

"You okay, mom?"

"Yeah." Mikaela sighed. "This is one hell of a trip."

"Yup. We planned for Tranquility and ended up across the world while the world kinda blew up."

Oh, the outlook of a healthy, stable youth. Mikaela took pride in the fact that Elita didn't spend her formative years living in uncertainty. No eating pizza crusts out of dumpsters, no Christmases without presents, no watching her dad steal cars for a living, no waking up to the cops banging on the front door and no going to juvenile hall for obstructing justice.

Then she saw Elita stare solemnly at the Matrix of Leadership pendant and realized worrying about the police paled in comparison to the secret under their feet.

"Dad used to say Orion kept him in the dark about the war as long as possible." Elita sighed, stashing the pendant under her shirt again. "I get why, now. This mess...I can't take it in. I can't get my brain around it. How many babies born in the last three days are gonna grow up in a world their parents don't know how live in?"

Mikaela smoothed a wild hair behind Elita's ear. "I dunno, El. But they're being born, they're alive, and they're the generation that's going to rebuild it better."

"'Til all are one," Elita murmured under her breath. She nodded resolutely, dried off with a paper towel and tossed it in the trash. "C'mon, let's go see the present."

They crossed through carpeted hallways to reach the exit. Sweltering dry air blasted them as they stepped outside. Elita dashed towards the shaded side of the building and rounded the corner.

"Holy crap, mom! Get over here!"

Mikaela power-walked because she wasn't running in hundred degree heat. She entered the building's shadow and froze.

There sat a brand new cherry red GMC Topkick c6500 with a silver sunshade propped up inside the windshield.

"Damn him," she whispered. Warmth rushed to her face and tears stung her eyes as she grinned. "Damn that sneaky bastard."

"Your dream truck!" Elita exclaimed.

Speechless, Mikaela pushed the key into the driver's side lock and twisted to unlock it. Hot air strengthened the 'new car' smell that poured out around her. Gray cloth seat covers erased any concerns she had about burning her butt or legs.

The steering wheel had a big read bow stuck to its center.

She climbed in and screamed internally when she noticed the manual transmission. The driver's seat was already adjusted to her preferred driving position. Even the mirrors were angled exactly where she liked them.

"Hey! Unlock my side!" Elita knocked on the window.

Mikaela giggled and did so. Elita took a deep sniff as she scooted in.

"I checked the whole thing. No Autobot symbols or glyphs. It's a regular truck."

"You sound disappointed."

"Maybe a tiny bit."

"Tch. Silly kid." Mikaela snapped a photo of the steering wheel bow with her phone and texted it to Optimus.

 **You sneaky asshole! You're ridiculous and I love you**.

Optimus responded ten seconds later.

 **Merry Christmas! I know, and I love you, too**.

He punctuated it with a winking emoji.

Mikaela snorted at that. She set her phone down and stuck the key into the ignition. The engine purred to life. Part of Chicago's _Will You Still Love Me?_ blasted through the radio speakers.

 _"_... _Take me as I am_ ,  
_put your heart in mine_ , __  
stay with me forever.  
' _Cause I am just a man_  
who never understood,  
_I never had a thing to prove_.  
' _Til there was you_ , __  
you and me,  
_then it all came clear so suddenly_  
_how close to you that I wanna be_... _"_

Optimus did that on purpose. Warmth flooded Mikaela's cheeks. She leaned back, relishing the truck's sound system while the powerful song shot through her bones.

 _"_... _Just say you'll love me for the rest of your life_.  
_I got a lotta love and I don't want to let go_!  
_Will you still love me for the rest of my life_?  
' _Cause I can't go on_...  
_No, I can't go on_...  
_I can't go on_  
_if I'm on my own_... _"_

Elita giggled. "Mom, you're blushing!"

Mikaela playfully elbowed her. "I know. Now buckle up, I'm itching to drive this baby!"

She decided to wait on telling Optimus about their encounter with Quintessa. There was nothing he could do about it, and they already got rid of her. Why make him worry?

"Ready, El?" Mikaela shoved the incident behind her and smiled.

"Yeah!" Elita pulled the sunshade off the windshield and folded it up. "Let's go!"

Chicago continued blasting through the speakers while Mikaela backed out of the parking space.

.o

Returning home took twelve hours due to frequent rest stops, traffic and road closures. The cabin suffered no damage beyond unsecured things falling off shelves, a cracked bathroom window, a few wonky doors and a lack of electricity. All the perishables in the fridge were spoiling or already spoiled and had to get cleaned out. Mail, mostly junk ads, piled up on the floor inside the front entrance.

No electricity meant no air conditioning. The cabin was stuffy-warm, but opening all the windows and doors to let in the cooler evening air ameliorated that issue.

Mikaela took two antique brass kerosene lamps out of the pantry. They were full. No batteries required. She and Elita ate a late pizza dinner in the soft glow of their flames. Both tacitly refused to complain about the situation because they still had a home to live in, food to eat and clean water to drink and bathe in.

Power was restored to the area the next morning. Mikaela switched on the downstairs TV just in time to catch a breaking Eyewitness news report on channel seven.

"... _just in. Millionaire Maxwell "Max" Pagonis has died. Captain William Lennox released a statement saying Maxwell was killed when an explosive charge malfunctioned during an overseas military operation. Maxwell Pagonis was forty-eight years old. He is survived by his wife and one son_."

The brunette news anchor nodded to the camera. " _I'm Colleen Sullivan, and we will be back with the weather report after the break_."

A public report meant Sherry and Tyson knew Max was gone. Mikaela switched off the TV and sighed.

Restarting a disrupted social life proved far easier than anticipated. Mikaela found herself out of a job, just like she expected. Joe sympathized with her situation after she told her stalker cover story. She hated lying through her teeth to an employer she respected, but he bought it. He invited her to reapply.

Elita's friends got the 'mom had a stalker' cover story as well. Her first twenty-four hours home were spent answering worried calls and texts. Mikaela helped her keep the story straight to avoid unwanted questions.

Days began to slip by. Life furled towards a new normal.

Mikaela took Elita on a mall crawl for school clothes and supplies late in August. They just walked out of their last stop, Macy's, when Elita received a call from Lupe.

"Hey, mom? Lupe's downstairs and wants to know if I can hang out with her. Her mom is okay with bringing me home later."

The timing sucked, but they both spent weeks in hiding. Elita needed _normalcy_ again.

"Sure." Mikaela ruffled Elita's hair, which shone with fresh blonde highlights. "I'll take your stuff home and leave it on your bed. Tell Monica no later than eight."

Elita's grateful smile said more than words.

Mikaela strolled out of the mall to stash the two Sears bags, the Macy's bag and the JC Penney bag on the passenger's side floor of the Topkick. She threw a ratty blue beach towel over them to deter thieves.

Clouds briefly covered the sun. It wasn't oppressively hot out that day.

Mikaela shut the driver's side door, belted up and started the truck. The backup camera came on automatically. Habit still made her twist to watch behind her while she reversed. Something purple caught her eye, so she glanced ahead and saw a familiar plum Rolls Royce parked next to the Burger King across from the mall.

Sherry sat in the driver's seat, her lips clamped tight around a freshly-lit cigarette. She had her sunglasses perched atop her head like a headband while she thumbed her phone. All of a sudden she took the cigarette from her mouth, forcefully threw her phone down and clamped one hand over her eyes.

Annoying jerk or not, Sherry was still a grieving widow. Mikaela's conscience didn't like the idea of leaving without checking on her.

An SUV vacated a spot behind Sherry's car. Mikaela swooped in like a vulture. Pitiful sobbing greeted her when she hopped out of her vehicle.

"Sherry?" Mikaela approached the other car.

Sherry immediately swallowed her weeping, sniffed hard and swiped a tissue across her face. There was no masking her puffy eyes or the dark splotches where her mascara ran.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

The mercurial response was something Mikaela expected, so she didn't let it deter her.

"I heard about Max on the news. I'm sorry."

"'I'm sorry.' Everyone keeps saying that." Sherry puffed the cigarette stained pink by her lipstick. "The only _sorry_ I want to hear is from the idiot who dropped the faulty grenade on Max's head!"

"That's-- oops, hold on. Sorry."

Mikaela's phone vibrated, so she checked it. She gave Sherry a 'one second' gesture and walked several steps away to take the call. Rude? Definitely, but Sherry would do the same thing.

"Hey."

"Hello, wifey," Optimus' smoky baritone voice was warm and clear despite the distance between them. "I'm calling to say I love you."

Of course. The random _I love you_ phone calls. Mikaela didn't realize how much she missed them until they started up again two days ago.

"I love you, too." She looked up at the sky, the sugary sweetness welling in her chest disrupted by the situation at hand. "Hey, um...the news reported that Max is gone."

"Yes, I know. Has the cover story changed since then?"

"No, but his wife's a mess." Mikaela dropped her voice to a whisper, "She said somebody dropped a faulty grenade on his head. She wants to hear an apology from the guy who did it."

No hesitation. Optimus said, "Is she present now?"

"Mmhmm, but out of earshot."

"Take the phone to her. Put me on speaker."

Mikaela inhaled a deep breath, switched her phone to speaker and walked back to Sherry's car. Sherry looked up at her, sniffling.

"What now?"

"Sherry, this is Owen. Can you hear me?"

Her eyes darted to Mikaela's phone. "I hear you."

"I am sincerely sorry, Sherry." Optimus spoke the words slowly and gently. "It was an accident no one foresaw."

Sherry's grimacing visage went beet red. She snuffed her cigarette, slammed both hands against the top of her steering wheel and squeezed it until her knuckles paled. Mikaela braced herself for screaming, swearing or enraged shouting.

"Thank you." Sherry said it in a calm whisper. "Did you watch him die?"

"Yes. It was instant. He did not suffer."

Sherry nodded solemnly. Her shaking hands relaxed off the steering wheel. Then she burst into tears. The overpowering whole body ugly cry of a person in heartbreaking agony.

"Good. I want to tell Tyson exactly what happened, and I don't want to lie to him if he asks if it hurt." She dabbed at her eyes and sobbed. "At least it wasn't one of those damn robots. I can live with an accident."

Mikaela swore she heard Optimus cringe on the other end.

"I truly am sorry, Sherry," he said, his voice rife with genuine sympathy.

"Stop! Once is enough! It won't bring him back!"

Sherry flung her sunglasses at the windshield. They bounced off and landed in her lap. She stared forlornly down at them like they were the source of all her anguish.

Mikaela turned off speaker mode. She walked out of earshot to let Sherry collect herself.

"Sorry for dumping that on you. Are you okay?"

"With this? No." Optimus gave a mechanical sigh. "I doubt I ever will be, but dwelling on it doesn't benefit anyone. We have no choice except to learn from it and move forward."

She bristled. "That bitch is never going to know her husband tried to murder our daughter. I can't forgive that!"

"Mikaela, put your dislike of her aside for one moment and imagine yourself in her place." Optimus' voice was sharp, but not angry. "How painful would it be if someone coldly told you that I ceased to be the person you loved during my final moments?"

Mikaela froze at those words. She honestly hadn't considered it that way. Her loathing of Max clouded her judgment towards his family, and Optimus' percipient question swept the clouds away in one fell swoop.

"I don't know," she said, "I don't _want_ to know."

His voice regained its gentleness when he said, "I understand how you feel. You don't have to forgive Max or his family, but there is nothing to gain from adding to Sherry's misery."

Sherry's lighter clicked. The wind changed direction. Mikaela ignored the biting cigarette smoke smell. She stuck her fingers into her hair and grasped at her scalp.

Optimus suffered the most because of Max, and all he longed for was making Max aware of the harm he caused. Mikaela wanted to enact revenge on him and see him wiped off the map.

They both got what they wanted, and neither felt better for it. From that perspective, desiring more vengeance seemed pointless.

Sherry acted like she spent her lifetime being told what to think, so she parroted whatever she heard from other people. Maybe she didn't know how to think for herself. None of that excused the awful things she said, but it explained them.

Mikaela adjusted the spaghetti straps of her blue and white floral print maxi dress. "Okay, I see your point, but she's never going to stop annoying me by existing. I guess I have to live with that."

Optimus chuckled softly, his gentle laugh like rolling thunder. "I know the feeling. On that note, I should let you go. I have meetings to attend to and you seem to have your hands full as well."

"Mmhmm. Talk later tonight?"

His response had a smile behind it. "As you wish."

A smile formed on her face, too. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Buh-bye."

"Bye."

Mikaela pocketed her phone and turned to face Sherry, who just lit her third cigarette.

"I have a question," Sherry began.

"Yeah?" Mikaela waited for it.

Sherry flicked ash out her car window. "How the hell did you get close enough to a Transformer to learn its name?"

Half of Mikaela's mouth quirked in a smirk. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

A frown creased Sherry's brow. She threw her cigarette package at Mikaela. "Try me."

Mikaela caught the package. They were Marlboros. There was one left.

"Thanks, but I don't smoke." She tossed it back. "I met Optimus in an alley up in Tranquility. This is when I was still in high school. I was with a guy friend, and we ended up in the alley together. This huge truck drove up to us and transformed into a red and blue robot. He identified himself as Optimus Prime, and said he needed my friend's help."

"Tch. Was he asking that _guy_ to help him kill everybody on Earth?"

"Nope." Mikaela's smirk morphed into a smile. "He asked that guy to help him save it. My guy friend had something that helped them do that. I'm not supposed to say more. Government gag order stuff, ya know?"

Sherry nodded and scrutinized her own fingernails. They were acrylic and decorated with a coral pink tortoiseshell pattern. A scintilla of thought shone on her face. Probably the first one not fed to her by somebody else.

"Did it-- he-- do those robots feel anything? Are they alive?"

Mikaela braved the nasty cigarette smoke stench to lean over and look straight into the other woman's eyes.

"Sherry, the only difference between us and them is what our bodies are made of." She turned her head to cough. "Optimus' planet destroyed itself with a war that's gone on longer than we'll ever be alive. He fights to keep it from happening to Earth because he doesn't wish that pain on anybody."

Fresh tears turned Sherry's eyes shiny. "Max wanted to stop those robots from tearing apart more families. He had a big one. Two sets of grandparents, both parents, four brothers, two sisters, a lot of nieces, nephews and cousins. They died in Chicago during a family reunion. Max is alive because he was caught in traffic when the takeover started. The building they were in got crushed, and the big red and blue one-- Optimist? Whatever-- Max saw him drive by as a truck when the building fell."

She snuffed her cigarette. "Oh, my God...what am I going to do?"

Mikaela ducked her head so Sherry didn't see her roll her eyes. There was no clearing up the picture for her. She straightened and squared her shoulders.

"Keep going forward. Life isn't going to stop because you lost the man you love. Start by making your own decisions. How old are you?"

Sherry blotted at her nose with a crumpled tissue.

"I'm thirty-five. I was sixteen when I met Max, like in that Benny Mardones song about flying into the night. We dated secretly. He opened my eyes. He took me places and showed me I wasn't filth to God. Max...he was an extrovert, but he was tender and kind to me in ways my father never was. I ran away with him as soon as I was eighteen. I waited to keep the law off his back. We got married when I turned twenty-one.

"My parents were-- they're extremely religious. Fanatical Christian fundamentalists. I haven't seen or spoken to them in almost twenty years. They believed women were inferior and dirty. A woman let sin into the world, so a woman has to work twice as hard and defer to men-- especially her father and husband-- to receive atonement and God's grace. I tried to be that with the freedom Max gave me. Now he's gone, and I don't know what to do!"

Her tears began anew, but quieter than before. The makeup she wore had to be top notch because it stood up against her crying. Only the mascara ran, and even that was minimal.

Rowdy teenagers burst out of the Burger King door. The tallest one turned his black baseball cap backwards and belched thunderously like someone expelling a demon. His buddies laughed at Mikaela's raised brow. Skateboards scrape-clacked on the ground and the guffawing faded around the corner.

An idea flashed in Mikaela's mind. She smirked.

"Yeah, a woman let sin in and pissed God off. Then God went and picked a woman to bring the solution because He loves us. He gave Mary a choice, and Mary said yes. Jesus did the rest. That's why Christmas and Easter exist. Free will, Sherry. You have it. God gave it to you. Use it."

"Hmph. You don't strike me as a church-going Christian."

"I'm not a churchy person." Mikaela shrugged. "I mean, I was raised Catholic, but I'm not active. I haven't been to a Mass in a long time. I believe in God and I think that's all that matters. Maybe He's using me as your still small voice to tell you to start living your own life."

"Fair point." Sherry heaved a long sigh and wiped tears off her face for what had to be the millionth time. "Where should I start?"

How ironic, she couldn't even make that decision without somebody's help. It was sad and painful to see.

Mikaela pointed to the mall behind her. "Go into the mall and pick out an outfit. Pick shoes to go with it. Do the same thing with your hair and nails. Make yourself look how you always wanted to look, and don't base it on what you think others want. You don't have to defer to men anymore. You're more than a dress-up doll, Sherry. Stop letting life happen to you. Take charge of it. Make mistakes and learn from them. _Be_ the mom you never got. The rest will figure itself out."

Sherry stared like a deer in headlights. The face of a child being told to break all the rules instilled on them.

"You aren't the fool I thought you were," she said.

Shrugging, Mikaela stepped back from the car. "There's more to me than meets the eye."

Resolve hardened Sherry's expression as she started the Rolls Royce. She slid her pink gradient-coated sunglasses on, peeled out of the parking space and sped towards the mall.

 _Optimus rubbed off on me_ , Mikaela thought to herself.

She twirled her keys around her finger, allowed herself a pleased smile and climbed into her Topkick.

.o

Optimus initiated a video chat that evening. Mikaela propped her phone up with bent paperclips and they made small-talk while she finished mopping the kitchen floor.

Elita was still at Lupe's, so he promised to call again in the morning to talk to her.

"Now we're set." Mikaela dumped the dirty water and put the mop away. She carried her phone into the living room where she curled up on the red sofa. "Where are you?"

"A living unit. Er...like a studio condominium."

Optimus panned the room. The small space looked similar to the recharge room in his 'childhood' home, except it had a narrower window, the low ceiling wasn't transparent and the walls weren't as shiny. A golden-hued desk occupied the corner beside the window. His recharge table folded out of the other corner like a Murphy bed.

He touched a tile by the door, which was opposite to the window. Two triangular chairs transformed out of the wall beside the recharge table and rotated to the middle of the room. He arched a brow ridge. "Bots colloquially call these 'aft pokers' because of their shape. The irony is the seats are very comfortable."

"Hm, well, they kinda look like faceted butt plugs." Mikaela giggled when he snickered. She wiped her hair back and relaxed against the cushy sofa backing. "So, what's your view like?"

"I'll show you." He took the recording device to the window.

Seeing the sun shining in a black sky like any other star was spooky. Its brilliance kissed the otherworldly city sprawling across Mikaela's phone screen. Titanic pillars stretched between the ground and the level above. Honeycomb patterns of all sizes dominated the city layout. Her tiny phone screen could not convey the enormity of the structures being shown to her.

"You're looking at Iacon," Optimus explained. "It currently faces away from the Earth. Power is only available to a small area. It is much more impressive when all the buildings are lit. Imagine the lights of any major metropolitan city on Earth and scale it up to the ground area of Nevada."

The camera he used wobbled when he flipped it towards himself and let go.

"Wow." Mikaela's heart swelled at seeing him look wistfully towards the horizon outside the window.

"I have faith that it will shine again." He refocused on her. "Has Quintessa appeared to you at all?"

Mikaela didn't blame him for asking every time they video chatted. She texted the whole mess to him the night she got Elita home to the cabin. He kept it out of his _I love you_ calls in case she picked up while out in public, but private chats were different.

Being back in a full-time leadership position kicked his anxiety into high gear, so Mikaela focused on offering reassurance.

"Nope." She scratched the back of her head. "Not since Nevada. I think she got the hint the first time."

Mikaela worried about Quintessa appearing to her or Elita more often than she cared to admit. She always kicked the thought aside. Living in constant fear didn't help anyone, so she refused to. Besides, Quintessa couldn't touch the Matrix of Leadership without excruciating pain.

She yanked her mind off the subject by addressing another one.

"When's your FDR session?"

"Drift is arriving now. We're using the strobe. I...heh," Optimus shifted his weight and self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck. "This will be my second time experiencing it. I wanted to share it with you."

Warmth flowed into Mikaela's cheeks. "I'll be right here, boss bot."

He smiled softly at her and straightened.

"Prime, Mikaela, hello." Drift said from off-screen.

"Hey, Drift."

They sat down on the goofy looking triangle chairs. Drift spent a few moments setting things up.

Flicker Desensitization and Reprocessing worked _exactly_ like Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing treatment for humans. FDR utilized a strobe light, paddles with alternating temperatures or small speakers that emitted a sequence of beeps.

Optimus preferred the strobe. The device resembled black binocular eyepieces attached to the end of a gold gooseneck mount held steady by silver tripod legs. He adjusted the gooseneck until he only needed to lean forward for the eyecups to cover his optics completely.

Drift talked Optimus through focusing on the physical sensations he experienced. Then he started the strobe, ran it for no less than fifteen seconds and stopped it again. Small purple LEDs on the sides glowed when the device was active.

" _Sensei_ , what are you noticing?"

Optimus leaned back and closed his optics. His lip plates quivered. He covered his chest with both palms.

" _Pain_. Pain in my Spark chamber."

Drift spoke quietly, "What is the source?"

"The crowbar."

"Let us work with that."

Optimus opened his optics, leaned forward and looked into the strobe eyepieces.

Mikaela saw him freeze up during a particularly difficult recollection. Thin steam curled through his nose vents. He moved his hand, hesitated for a long moment and swiped his index finger across his throat like a movie director cutting a scene.

Drift stopped immediately, no questions asked. He kept his expression neutral. Compassion bled into his smooth voice.

"You are safe, Prime. Return to your ocean. Calm the storm until the water is a mirror. Calm, calm."

"Calm... _calm_..."

They waited a minute. The steam gradually dissipated. Mikaela didn't dare speak for fear of interrupting their flow.

"Do you wish to continue?" asked Drift.

"My mind says yes, my body says no."

"Any 'no' is a sign to stop. There is no shame in that, Prime."

"I feel more tired and unsettled than last time."

Drift moved the strobe aside and laid a reassuring hand on Optimus' shoulder. "Your processor is still re-processing the memory in the background. We are constructing new pathways in your laminates to be reinforced by future sessions. Your body is hard at work rerouting your mind. Fatigue and anxiousness are normal as long as they do not interfere with your day to day activities."

Optimus hunched forward and covered his face. He looked fresh out of a brutal physical fight, except he didn't have any marks to show for it.

"This is much more difficult than I anticipated. I had no idea the issue was so..." He groped for a suitable word, "...layered."

Sunlight caught Drift's red armor as he knelt to look up at Optimus.

" _Sensei_ , the transformation between who we are and who we are becoming is a difficult, invisible battle rarely seen by those around us. Sometimes, this battle makes itself visible. By choice or circumstance, it doesn't matter. People react fearfully when they see someone else's struggle manifest outwardly because it is a reminder to them that they, too, are in flux."

"There is nothing lonelier than an inner struggle you can't reveal." Optimus lowered one hand to Drift's shoulder. "And there is nothing braver than revealing it anyway."

"You honor me, _sensei_." Drift's features warmed into a smile. He stood up when Optimus did, faced the recording device and acknowledged Mikaela with a nod. She flashed him a hopeful smile.

Optimus wasn't expending all his energy on treading water in his mind anymore. Drift showed him how to resurface and fight back. It didn't matter if stasis trauma waves tossed him around or sucked him down to rock bottom.

He was _swimming_.

.o

August plunged forward into September.

The cracked bathroom window got fixed. Elita started school as an eighth grader. Mikaela's application was accepted at Joe's. Having a job again meant medical insurance and no more worrying about paying the bills. Joe pulled a few strings to give her back the salary she had before her disappearance.

By mid-September, stores began donating portions of their proceeds to a new charity calling itself World United. A heart-shaped planet Earth made up its logo.

Mikaela Googled it on her phone while waiting in line at the grocery store. Most of the proceeds for WU funded operations related to feeding and clothing people living in areas affected by the recent global catastrophe. The rest went to providing them with shelters, medical care, dental care, mental health care, education and _hope_.

The charity's slogan said, " _One conversation is all it takes to change a life._ "

Curious, Mikaela scrolled down to locate its founder.

It was Sherry Pagonis. The long, oft pinned-up blonde hair she used to wear became a spiky mahogany hued pixie cut. Gone were her filmy blouses and expensive slacks. Now she clad herself with flannel shirts, flared jeans and stilettos. Even her makeup looked hip and fresh; one could hardly tell she wore any at all.

That day, Mikaela bought a WU bumper sticker to stick on the Topkick and a heart-shaped Earth pin for Elita. Elita put the pin on her school backpack. The irony of a "heart-shaped Unicron" wasn't lost on either of them.

October brought crisp air and orange leaves.

Mikaela spotted Tyson leaning against a locker when she dropped Elita off at school. Polo shirts and khakis appeared to be his fashion mainstay. His curly dark brown mop almost fell to his shoulders. In a few years he would have the beard scruff to complete the look.

Elita and Tyson waved at each other, but did not interact beyond that.

The door beside Tyson swung open, and out popped a chubby towheaded boy with Downs syndrome. He excitedly showed Tyson a worksheet. Tyson grinned at the paper. They high fived and fist bumped.

November brought rain, and ice crystallized December.

A local Catholic church hosted a choir Christmas concert to raise funds for World United. It was a blustery, cold Saturday evening. Mikaela went to the concert for the heck of it and brought Elita along.

Everybody in the choir wore black attire with red ties or jewelry as accent pieces. The blue-eyed waif of a soprano in the front row had auburn hair down to her knees. During each song, she alternated between bouncing on the balls of her feet, swaying her whole body and flapping her hands like Julia. She was practically dancing in place during the final song, a rousing, bouncy piece that went on for nearly ten minutes. Where did she get so much energy?

Elita had Optimus tap into her phone, which let him watch the concert with them. He noticed the excited soprano, too, and mentioned she reminded him of Julia.

After the show, Elita put Optimus on speaker and approached the girl. Mikaela hung back, observing. The girl and Elita were almost the same height.

"Hey, awesome singing up there. Um, what was that last song you did?"

"Hi!" The soprano turned to face Elita. "That was _Gloria in Excelsis Deo_ by Kevin Memley. Super hard to learn, but a blast to sing when you figure it out."

"I can tell." Elita giggled. "Okay, this is random and I hope it's not offensive...are you autistic?"

The girl-- actually a very petite woman-- clasped her hands together and lit up like the question highlighted her night.

"Yup! I guess you saw me stimming all night."

"Cool! Yeah, I did!" Elita relaxed a little and cradled her phone. "One of my friends is autistic. She just turned nine. I'm twelve."

"Oh. I'm more than thirty years ahead of you both, but I don't look my age," said the soprano with a laugh. "Everybody thinks I'm a teenager or barely twenty."

"People think I'm eight." Elita made a face. "It's because we're short."

The woman struck a fake model pose. "Short ain't bad. Own it. Shorties unite!"

Elita giggled at that. "Totally!"

Mikaela heard Optimus say something, but it was halfway lost in the chatter happening all around. The soprano raised her eyebrows.

"Is that your dad on the phone?" She leaned closer, "I like your voice. Come sing with us, we're desperate for baritones!"

Optimus burst out laughing on the other end. "Thank you, but my current employment keeps me traveling."

The soprano bounced on her toes, eyeing Elita. "The choir loft is always open. So...whoops, there's my mom. I gotta run. Thanks for coming--" she pointed at the phone, "--and for streaming."

"The music was magnificent," Optimus said to her, and she happily waved her hands. People stared at her movements. She ignored them.

"Thanks, stranger-dad," she said.

"Good luck with choir." Elita added, taking a step back.

"Good luck at life." The soprano awkwardly stuck her hand out. Elita politely shook hands with her and they parted ways.

The soprano hopped along the church aisle like a bunny, shouting, "It's gonna be Christmas and I'm Mary Poppins, y'all!"

"C'mon, El." Mikaela herded Elita towards the open double doors at the back.

Church hadn't' changed. People still milled at the entrances instead of stepping two more feet aside.

"Oh, dang it," Elita snapped her fingers, "I forgot to ask her what her name was. Oh, well."

Elita raised the phone to her ear again and switched off speaker mode. She smiled.

"Sorry. Still here. She was really excited. Heh! Yeah. We're heading out now. It's freezing. Huh? I will. I love you, too, dad. Bye."

"That was fun," Mikaela glanced back at the gold tabernacle behind the church altar. She blew it a kiss. "Peace out, Jesus."

Christmas arrived softly with snow. New Years brought boisterous fireworks.

Life went on, the seasons changed, and time swept everything inexorably forward.

.o

_April 2nd_

Sundays always triggered deeper, more restful sleep, but something about Elita's birthday woke Mikaela up around five in the morning every year. Maybe her body remembered that being the hour she awoke in labor thirteen years ago.

Wind rustled the trees outside. A mockingbird sang through its litany of stolen birdcalls.

Weight slowly depressed the mattress near her hip, causing the springs to creak. A warm metal hand cupped her shoulder. Elation tickled her breastbone at the familiar touch. She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes to Optimus sitting on the edge of the bed.

Transparent gold shimmer paint highlighted his metal eyelids. He'd polished himself to a high shine-- or at least he made his human-sized hologram appear that way. All his silver parts had a mirror finish, including his face. He scintillated like new in the predawn dimness.

Mikaela wiped a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. All she wore for pajamas was an oversized black T-shirt. She grinned as she moved the sheets, draped her bare legs across his lap and folded her arms in a fake pout.

"You're early."

Optimus leaned over and rumbled in her ear. "I drove all night."

She peered at him through her eyelashes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh? Any specific reason?"

"To give you this." He kissed the tip of her nose and his servos whirred when he returned her embrace. "And to tell you that I love you."

Butterfly tingles danced through Mikaela's chest. She cupped the back of his head and nuzzled her cheek against his. His warm armor was smoother than usual because of the polish.

"I love you, too." She rubbed her fingernails in circles behind his right ear finial. "How long can you stay?"

"One week."

"Awesome." Mikaela rapped her nails against his helm, causing it to clank. "You dressed up for me. I like it. You look great."

Optimus' optics softened while he played with a strand of her hair.

"You wore dressy attire on more than one occasion to greet me. It's time I returned the favor." He smiled mischievously. "Now, may I have your assistance in playing a small birthday prank on Elita?"

"Oh, this should be good. Lay it on me."

Mikaela listened eagerly to Optimus' plan. Yup, it was going to be funny.

She got out of bed to make herself decent. The weatherman predicted mild temperatures, so she decided to throw on a skintight white tank top and Capri pants. A filmy red ankle-length chiffon vest and strappy red sandals completed her look. She pinned her hair back in a loose ponytail, added her red hoop earrings and, as a last minute decision, dusted on a little bit of gold shimmer eye shadow.

The sun rose, bringing more warmth to the room. Optimus looked like a knight in shining armor while he straightened the bed and smoothed the dark blue comforter.

"Ah...there it is."

"Hm?" Mikaela turned off the bathroom light.

"It's the moment you told me you were in labor." His expression softened when he fixed his optics on her. He nodded towards the triangular Jacuzzi tub in the corner. "I had no idea how much she would change my life for the better."

Mikaela joined him by the bed. Funny, she always remembered how painful her labor was, yet the pain paled in comparison to the joy of seeing Elita's face and hearing her cry for the first time.

"It's wild, isn't it? You end up holding this tiny person...a tiny person that doesn't know hate exists or how big the world really is. All they know is you."

Optimus cocked a brow ridge. "Then you blink and she turns into a mouthy, headstrong teenager. Which reminds me-- did she go on her annual anti-Autism Speaks tear at school and Stater's?"

"Yup. She gave out flyers in every class on Friday and stuck flyers on every car in the parking lot yesterday. We were babysitting Julia, and she helped her put them out at Stater's. We sent pics to Erin. She loved 'em."

His optics slipped briefly into the faraway _proud dad_ stare.

Mikaela grinned impishly. "So, are you ready to nail the birthday girl?"

"Mmhmm. I'm dialing now."

Her cell phone buzzed. She answered it, put it on speaker and tip-toed to Elita's bedroom.

As expected, Elita slept sprawled on her stomach with her hair falling over her face. She'd made a mess of her black and purple striped comforter and purple sheets.

"El..." Mikaela shut the bedroom door behind her and gently shook her sleeping daughter. "Sweetie, wake up. Your dad is on the phone."

"Hm?" The mass of blankets stirred. "What time is it?"

"It's butthole o'clock in the morning," Mikaela replied.

"Urgh...dad?"

"Happy birthday, sweet-Spark."

Elita sat up and made her hair messier by wiping it backwards off her face. She opened her eyes to look blearily at the phone.

"Thanks. Are you on your way here?"

Mikaela bit the insides of her cheeks to hide a smile.

"Ah, no, actually..." Optimus laid the grimness on thick.

Disappointment creased Elita's brow. She picked the sleep goop off the corners of her eyes and sighed dramatically.

"Why not?"

"I encountered a problem."

She crossed her arms, still frowning. "What _kind_ of problem?"

Optimus hung up and threw the bedroom door open. "I can't be on my way if I am already here."

Elita's dejected expression brightened like sunlight after an eclipse.

Mikaela snickered. "Gotcha."

"Oh, my God!" Elita tried and failed to smooth her rumpled hair. "You're both-- did you just-- _Dad!_ "

She launched herself at him. He caught her in his arms, spun her around and set her down, the wild-eyed excitement on his face mirroring hers. "Surprise!"

"You sneak!" She wiped tears off her eyes. "And you're really shiny!"

"And you're taller!" Optimus rubbed the top of her head, which was centered with hourglass-shaped juncture where his chest and abdominal armor met.

"Yeah, I'm--"Blinking, she touched the back of her gray pajama shorts. Her cheeks flushed red. "Oh, my God, ew. Hold on a sec."

To Mikaela, she whispered, "Please check my sheets."

Mikaela watched Elita grab clothes and underwear. She scurried into the bathroom at the top of the stairs. A fist-sized red splotch stained the seat of her shorts. Her sheets escaped unscathed.

Optimus noticed the stain. He blinked and brought a hand up to cover his mouth, the face of a dad realizing his little girl was getting closer to womanhood.

"When did _that_ begin?"

"Last year in July." She nudged him. "Don't bring it up. She gets embarrassed if guys know she's on it."

"Duly noted. I hope it doesn't cause her the discomfort you used to experience."

"It doesn't. She lucked out."

Footsteps hurried downstairs. The washing machine door banged. Elita reappeared dressed in her short red turtleneck sweater-dress, sparkly black leggings and red kitten heel sling-backs. Her loose, neatly combed hair spilled around her shoulders.

Mikaela paused when she glimpsed the woman Elita was growing into. Her heart took a picture. No camera necessary.

"Wow," Optimus raised his brow ridges. "Elita, you look beautiful!"

"Thanks." Elita beamed up at him. She rubbed the back of her neck and shot him a sheepish look. "Sorry that I ran off. Can we make pancakes for breakfast?"

"Absolutely." His face alighted with a smile. "Feel free to get started. I'll come downstairs momentarily."

"Okay." Elita spun on her heels. She struck a silly pose in the doorway, snickering. Then she was gone. Her shoes clack-clacked down the stairs and marked her path across the living room.

Mikaela noticed Optimus gazing at her in awe. She bit her bottom lip, flattered by his admiration. "What?"

He blinked slowly, closed his mouth and cocked his head. "Do you remember the old photo of yourself on your thirteenth birthday?"

Now Mikaela knew where his mind wandered. "With the flowery red sundress? Yeah. She looks like my twin, doesn't she?"

He nodded, offering his hand. "Shall we?"

She took it. "We shall."

.o

The rest of Elita's birthday went off without much of a hitch. Mikaela decorated the kitchen and living room with red and gold birthday streamers. Optimus draped a red tablecloth over the kitchen table and hung the sparkly red _HAPPY BIRTHDAY_ banner off the gaming loft banister.

He shifted to his human hologram at noon when Talia and Lupe arrived. Their appearance caused an impromptu fashion show where they squealed about their clothes.

Elita did the first twirl because she was the birthday girl. She threw in a few silly dance moves and pointed to Talia.

"Work it, Tal!"

Talia's fingernails and toenails were painted fire engine red. She took a spin in her long sleeveless top, which had alternating pastel pink and yellow ruffles. Simple pink leggings and yellow rhinestone flip flops finished it off.

She took a bow and gestured to Lupe. "Show us how it's done, Lupe!"

Lupe had on a burgundy floral print off the shoulder bell sleeve top, a short jean skirt and gold gladiator sandals. Red ribbons were braided into her waist-length black hair.

Optimus observed their antics before turning to Mikaela. "Have I stumbled onto the set of _America's Next Top Model?_ "

She snickered, nudging him. "Maybe."

Erin appeared at one o'clock with Julia tip-toeing at her heels. Her windblown red hair brushed against her pale green button down top, which had tiny red flowers embroidered on the collar.

"Julia's here!" Lupe called Talia over. She spun around and smiled. "Julia, you look cute! Can you do a spin like this and show off your outfit?"

"Show off your outfit?" Julia's gamine bob fluttered as she twirled happily. She wore red ballet flats, loose purple shorts with sparkly pink butterflies printed on the sides and the front of her faded red T-shirt had a crossed-out blue puzzle piece above bold white text stating, _Autism Speaks does not speak for me!_ Purple ear defenders protected her sensitive hearing. She carried her iPad on a black strap draped across her body like a bandolier. A pouch on the strap held Fluffster.

"Dave has the flu today and can't make it," Erin said ruefully. "He signed the card."

"Oh, thank you. Please send Dave my wish for a speedy recovery." Optimus accepted the orange gift bag she passed to him and set it by the fireplace where the other presents were stashed.

Julia touched her iPad screen and clapped her hands when the device spoke with a cute girl's voice, "Dave, fever, cough."

"Yikes," Mikaela said back to her. "I hope he feels better. The flu sucks."

Talia galloped across the living room and banged on the downstairs bathroom door. "Hey, El! Julia just got here! Did you die or something?"

"I'm resurrecting in here! Do you _mind?_ " Elita snapped back playfully.

Lupe joined in on the banging. Laughter ensued when Elita finally reappeared. All three girls rushed to surround Julia and bring her into the party.

Mikaela noticed Elita wearing purple eye shadow like Elsa in _Frozen_. Talia's doing, obviously-- that girl was on the way to becoming an awesome makeup artist. Lupe had a similar smokey eye design, albeit in brown, yellow and bronze. Talia did her own eyes with shades of peach, gold and hints of green.

She beamed at Julia, "Do you want eye makeup, too?"

Julia hung her head and tapped her iPad. "Yes!"

"Erin, is it okay with you?" Talia asked.

"It's fine if she'll tolerate it." Erin sat down on the sofa. She didn't wear the fracture boot anymore, but her foot still bothered her. To Mikaela, she said, "I love this. Other kids treat Julia like she's an alien."

Optimus chuckled and stuck his hands into his jeans pockets. He 'had on' a white T-shirt with _World's Most Embarrassing Dad_ written across the front in huge red letters.

"I'm an alien. This is just a human disguise."

Erin laughed and eyed him up and down. "Oh, what? Are you a Transformer?"

Ice pulsed through Mikaela's veins.

"Drat, she knows!" Optimus stage-whispered through the corner of his mouth.

"I guess we better hide her in the basement with the others before she finds out you're the truck in my garage!" Mikaela teased back. "Hurry, I'll get the chloroform."

Erin chuckled, covering her mouth. "Ha! You two are like Curt and I when we dated." She sobered to a soft smile. "Julia _really_ wants to meet a Transformer robot ever since she saw the Tsunami Robot on the news. She thinks they all need hearts like the Tin Man in _The Wizard of Oz_."

"The Tsunami Robot helped me and mom during the Cascadia earthquake." Elita walked past them to grab Talia's makeup bag. She hopped back into the giggling girl huddle by the windows. "Besides, he kissed me!"

"What?" Talia jumped up.

Lupe guffawed and slapped herself on the knees. "Are you playing us?"

"Nope," Elita fluffed her hair and smirked.

Julia touched her iPad screen. "Tell, tell, tell!"

She did, leaving out Ultra Magnus' name, the details about Area 51 and the conversation leading up to the memorable smooch.

"...so my first kiss was an alien, and I liked it." Elita finished the tale.

Talia squealed with laughter. "You're totally cray-cray, Elz! So they can talk? Like...they talk like us?"

"Mmhmm. Ult-- the Tsunami Robot kinda sounds like Richard Marx. Hold on, I have a video where he talks."

Elita scrolled through her phone and showed them the video she took from the hill overlooking Tranquility. Ultra Magnus' voice was loud and clear at the end. " _Let's go._ "

"Ooh, he sounds like a nice guy," said Talia.

"My mom was afraid of them until Tsunami Robot happened," Lupe said. She played with a ribbon in her hair and grinned.

"Tin Man!" Julia clapped her hands.

"Yeah," Elita put her phone away. "They kinda look like him, don't they?"

They dropped the subject and dug through Talia's makeup bag. Optimus and Mikaela exchanged surreptitious smirks. She scooted into the kitchen to hide her snickering while he entertained Erin with light conversation.

"Okay, Julia, let's get started." Talia squeezed liquid foundation on her fingertips. "I'm only using a little bit. Your freckles are too cute and I don't want to cover them up."

Elita and Lupe coached Julia through sitting still with her eyes closed. Talia giggled while she worked the girl's face like an artist's canvas. Upon finishing, Julia sported shimmering pink, red and gold smokey eyes. The only thing she couldn't handle was the eyeliner pencil on her waterline, so Talia skipped that.

"Wow!" Talia held up her phone, which had an old Gameboy casing. "Girls, let's strike a pose!"

They huddled around Julia while Talia snapped a selfie of them all together.

One o'clock crossed towards mid-afternoon. Techno music blasted through the cabin. Lupe, Talia and Elita took turns making up dance moves to go with it. They encouraged Julia to participate, which she did by jumping in circles while flapping her hands.

"She's doing the baby Groot!" Elita squealed.

Her, Lupe and Talia copied Julia's moves and their laughter almost drowned out the music.

"Hey, Erin! Julia has moves!" Talia yelled over the noise.

"Julia has moves!" Julia spun again while Erin happily took a photo with her phone.

Optimus ordered pizza to spare Mikaela the cooking.

"Pizza in forty-five," he said in her ear.

"Cool."

Elita emerged from the party fray. "Mom? I'm gonna take Julia for a sensory break in the woods. We'll be right back, okay?"

Mikaela ruffled Elita's hair. "Okay, but watch the time. Dinner is in forty five minutes. Don't go any further than the clearing."

Nodding, Elita checked her watch. "Gotcha."

She held Julia's hand and approached Erin to let her know. Then she took Julia out through the front door.

Talia and Lupe laughed and made faces at each other as they continued their dance-off.

Mikaela unwrapped a package of plain white paper plates, set out drinks and put down a pile of red party napkins for the incoming pizza blitz.

Ten minutes went by. Optimus excused himself upstairs. Mikaela's phone hummed. She checked it to find a text from Elita.

**Julia met her Tin Man.**

Next came a photo taken on the hill in the forest clearing. Afternoon sun shone on Optimus as he knelt with Julia sitting in his cupped hands. They were smiling at each other. Julia had her arms up like someone cheering.

A final text came through.

**She asked dad if he can love without a heart. He said he can, and that he loves with his Spark. She's happy now because she knows he isn't sad.**

Optimus came downstairs after Mikaela shut off her phone. She stared dreamily at him. Did he realize he just gave her yet another excuse to love him even more?

Erin looked up worriedly. "Owen! Are you okay, hon?"

"My apologies, Erin," He rubbed the back of his neck. "I forgot to take my anti-anxiety medication, but I have remedied the issue." To Mikaela, he said, "Elita texted me. She and Julia are on their way back."

He mirrored her dreamy look when she didn't answer right away. She felt her cheeks get warm and gave a thumbs up to acknowledge what he said.

"Where did she go?" asked Lupe.

Optimus leaned over next to Mikaela and rested his elbows on the kitchen table. "Julia was overstimulated, so Elita ran interference to help her relax."

Lupe looked up at Optimus. Her face softened and her dark brown eyes were faraway in thought. "She beat up a bunch of boys who made fun of me after my uncle Jorje died. Then she got in trouble with Mrs. Lombardi because she stayed with me instead of going into her classroom when the recess bell rang. She's so nice when other people are mean."

"Yeah!" Talia slid in next to Lupe and rubbed the top of her own head. "She chased a girl who laughed at me because I'm bald and asked her if she'll still think it's funny when it's her mom or sister going through chemo. That girl shut right up and apologized."

"Well..." Amusement twinkled in Optimus' eyes. "She _is_ a Prime, and we have a strong sense of justice."

"I'm glad." Lupe flashed a little smile.

"We don't care if she's weird." Talia crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. "We're weirder!"

"I may have to claim the crown of King Weird." Optimus crossed his eyes right back and moved his glasses askew, which caused both girls to erupt in mirth.

"I _told_ you she gets it from her dad!" Talia playfully shoved Lupe.

"Oh, he's definitely weird." Mikaela added in.

"As if," Optimus fake-sneered.

She poked his nose and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

Elita and Julia returned five minutes before the pizza arrived. Talia opened the door.

"Yo, the pizza guy is here!" She shouted across the living room.

"On it." Optimus borrowed cash from a plain white cookie jar on the counter to pay the gangly, bespectacled delivery boy.

"Tin Man!" Julia shouted excitedly. She jumped up and down, clapping her hands and repeating the words in a singsong voice. "Tin Man! Tin Man!"

"Shhh," Optimus winked at her while he carried two Dominos pizza boxes to the dining room table. "Mikaela, prepare for the feeding frenzy."

"Fifteen seconds." Mikaela smirked.

"I'm going to guess ten."

He opened both pizza boxes. One had a plain cheese topping, the other came with everything on it. Elita, Lupe and Talia descended on it like vultures, though Elita made sure Julia got a plain cheese slice before grabbing one for herself. Talia politely took one of each topping for Erin.

"Sixteen-point-five," Optimus smirked at Mikaela. He oh-so-casually manifested a holographic slice of pizza on his plate while nobody was looking. "I was the closest."

"Hmph." Mikaela pretended to pout. She accepted the plain cheese pizza slice he handed her.

The party carried on with hardly a pause. Optimus handled the dirty dish cleanup, stashed leftover saran-wrapped pizza slices in the fridge and tossed the empty pizza boxes in the recycle bin outside. He settled on the sofa beside Erin. Mikaela curled up in his lap.

"Hey girls," she called, "Time to open presents!"

Optimus kissed her behind the ear. His voice trembled like it did when Elita grabbed his finger for the first time. "This is it, Mikaela. The moment she was born."

Mikaela's heart swelled with the same warmth. She interlocked their fingers and squeezed his hand. "Now she's a teenager."

Elita opened the cards first, giggled at them and went for the presents next.

Lupe's gift came in a flat box wrapped in silver paper. It was a beautiful Mexican poncho with bold pink, white, red and purple stripes. Elita held it up to admire it in detail.

"I was in Mexico for Christmas and I know you love those colors," said Lupe. "My grandma makes ponchos for the WU charity."

"Wow!" Elita beamed in delight. "Thanks, Lupe! This is so gorgeous. Oh, my God, I'm totally wearing this to school tomorrow. Hey, Talia, you could do a whole bunch of makeup looks based off this."

"Yup!" Talia laughed. She passed along a wide square box decked out in rainbow paper. "It's funny you said that. Here ya go, birthday girl!"

"Now I'm scared." Elita teased as she admired the wrapping paper before tearing into it.

She popped the lid off the plastic MAC box inside and it unfolded into an elaborate makeup set. Each color palette had labels for _day_ or _night_. The very bottom had a small bag of brushes and nail polish to match the lip colors.

"Oh, whoa!" Elita rubbed her hands together and grinned from ear to ear. "It's the same one you got for Christmas, too! This rocks! Thanks so much, Tal!"

"Nailed it." Talia gave a double thumbs up.

Julia shifted uneasily and tapped on her iPad. "Gift. Different. Sorry."

"Aw, why? I _know_ you got me something cool." Elita reached for the orange bag.

Erin set her empty Pepsi can down and crossed her legs. "She picked it out. I didn't help. It was all her."

Julia watched Elita through the corner of her eye. Elita pulled the yellow tissue paper out until she found the item hidden underneath. She lifted up the _Nightwatch_ astronomy book, which featured the silhouette of a person looking through a telescope superimposed over a starry photograph of the purple Veil nebula.

"Awesome!" Elita beamed over at Julia. "Julia, I _love_ astronomy! This is great. Thanks a lot! Really, thanks!"

"Really, thanks!" Julia said. She rocked back and forth, her worried pout fading into a bright smile.

"Not to worry, Julia. You aren't the only one with a nerdy gift." Optimus pointed to the sofa. "Elita? There is something strange concealed here."

Elita raised her eyebrows and poked under the sofa. Out came a long, flat package wrapped in glittery pink and red _HAPPY BIRTHDAY_ paper.

"I think I know what this is. Let's see if I'm right."

Lupe, Talia and Julia huddled closer. Elita chortled when she saw them all bearing down on her and tore off the paper. She opened the box, unrolled the poster inside and cackled, turning it for the others to see.

It was a copy of the original 1954 _Gojira_ poster. The other girls laughed with her.

"I guessed right!" Elita grinned excitedly. "Thanks, dad!"

Mikaela playfully pinched Optimus' cheek. "You geek."

"You love it." He rumbled seductively in her ear. Oh, the things his voice did to her pulse rate...but this wasn't the time nor the place, so she kept herself in check.

"Mmhmm. Now it's my turn." Mikaela slid off the sofa and sat next to Elita.

"Mommy," Elita hugged her.

Mikaela kissed the top of her head. "Gee, El, I forgot to buy something." She said it as she draped her arm over Elita's shoulder. In her hand, she held a small box enwrapped in the same glittery _HAPPY BIRTHDAY_ paper.

Technically true-- Mikaela didn't buy this present, but it meant something special.

"Aw!" Elita carefully tore off the paper. She ran her fingers over the velour red box before popping up the lid. Inside, a pair of pearl stud earrings. She gasped, covering her mouth. "Oh, mom!"

"The pearls are real. My mom gave those to me when I turned thirteen. I wanted to pass them on to you." Mikaela squeezed Elita's shoulder. She didn't anticipate a lump welling in her throat. Her little girl was growing towards womanhood at an alarming, yet inexorable pace.

"They're gorgeous." Elita put the earrings on and immediately threw her arms around Mikaela's neck in a tight hug. "Thanks, mom. I love you."

Mikaela returned the embrace and rubbed her daughter's back. "I love you, too, kiddo. They look great on you."

Elita twisted her body to the side and turned her head, mirroring the famous _Girl With a Pearl Earring_ painting. "What'cha think, dad?"

Optimus snapped a photo on his "phone" and gazed at her in undisguised admiration. "They suit you perfectly."

Mikaela got up at exactly the same moment Talia lobbed a bow. The sparkly knot bounced off Elita's head.

"Ack!"

Elita wadded up tissue paper and tossed that at Talia. It hit Talia _and_ Lupe. Julia grabbed the whole pile and flung it up in the air so it rained down on all four of them.

"Uh oh," Mikaela said teasingly to Optimus.

"Take cover," he replied.

The room erupted in a wrapping paper war. _Everybody_ got involved. Mikaela used the distraction to duck into the kitchen and stick the sparkly gold number candles in the cake.

Elita liked her birthday cakes simple. She had a round chocolate cake with white frosting this year. Tiny red and pink butterflies surrounded the top edge and spilled off onto the sides. Shiny pink frosting spelled out _Happy birthday, Elita!_ in beautiful cursive letters.

Optimus waited until Mikaela had the candles lit to herd the rambunctious girls towards the kitchen table. Elita beamed when she saw her cake. She stood at the table while everybody gathered around and sang _happy birthday_. Julia hummed instead of singing the words.

As soon as the song ended, she tapped on her iPad. "Wish. Wish. Wish."

Elita hugged Optimus' waist. Her eyes welled up.

"It already came true."

Optimus ruffled her hair and gently squeezed her shoulder. She returned to the table to blow out her birthday candles. Then she took the candles off and carefully cut the cake.

"Ooh! There's strawberries in it!" Talia held one up on her fork.

Elita painstakingly dug the strawberries out of a slice and placed them separate next to it. She gave that piece to Julia. "Here you go. I know you hate chunky stuff in cake. Sorry."

"Sorry." Julia hopped in place and accepted the plate. She touched the cake with her fingers before happily devouring it. The strawberries got eaten last.

"Owen, aren't you having a piece?" Erin indicated with her fork.

"I will in thirty minutes." Optimus tapped on his wrist. "My insulin shot hasn't sufficiently kicked in yet."

"Oh! Right. Sorry."

Mikaela sneakily put the last slice away in the fridge. Elita could have it tomorrow.

The party wound down after everybody finished their cake. Lupe's mom arrived, followed shortly by Talia's. Elita graciously walked them out.

Julia managed to pull Optimus aside while Erin used the downstairs bathroom. Mikaela, who stooped to gather up the wrapping paper mess, heard their exchange.

"Sparks, how long," Julia tapped her iPad.

Optimus arched an eyebrow. "How long has it lasted, or how long will it last?"

"Yes."

"Heh, heh..." He knelt to regard Julia on her level. "I have been alive longer than every star in the sky, and I will be alive after most of them have gone out."

She twisted her fingers together and touched her iPad screen again. "Forever. Will you?"

"No, I won't live forever, but I'm going to tell someone my life story when I get old and rusty. And guess what?" Optimus grinned and gently tapped the end of her nose. "You're a part of that story, Julia, just as I am a part of yours." He glanced at Mikaela. "An extremely intelligent woman said stories tell us that none of us are alone in how we feel."

Julia's expression lit up. She stared right into Optimus' eyes for a moment. Then she looked down at her iPad to type on it. "You. Tin Man. Not different. Like me. Feelings."

"You're right. I feel everything you can."

She suddenly hugged him and kissed his cheek. "I feel everything you can."

He embraced her, too. Elita took a photo of the moment on her phone.

Erin came out of the bathroom just in time to witness it. Julia scampered towards her and gave her a hug and kiss, too. They were both practically glowing when they left.

All became quiet after Erin's SUV pulled away. Mikaela closed the front door and took all the trash to the bins out back.

Sunset gave the western sky a glorious crepuscular glow. Everything above took on a deeper blue hue. The stars weren't visible yet.

"Hey, mom!" Elita called from the door. "I got a present from Mags! I'm gonna open it!"

"Really? Hang on, I'm coming."

Optimus had shifted out of his human hologram. He sat on the floor next to Elita with one knee hugged to his chest. Elita squatted beside a broad, rectangular metal box. Gold Cybertronian glyphs had been painted across the silver lid.

Mikaela sat cross-legged on the floor next to Optimus. He shot her a sidelong glance and winked. That flirty gesture would never cease to be cute.

"Best wishes for your thirteenth cycle. I hope this offers you a pleasing reminder of our kiss." Elita's face flushed bright red as she giggled and covered her mouth. "He wrote 'merry birthday' at the end."

She tried to lift the lid. It didn't budge.

"Uh..."

"Cybertronian gifts are a little different from Earth's. Here." Optimus pointed to a nearly invisible button on the side. "Push that."

"Do _you_ know what's in there?" she asked.

"No. He handed it to me and said it was a birthday gift for you."

"Now I'm curious." Mikaela brought her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them.

Elita touched the button on the side of the box. The lid 'sprouted' apart and retracted, revealing something resembling a silver two foot-long garden bell with a narrower gold rod suspended inside. Rustian dots covered the outer tube's entire polished silver surface. A shimmering chain with a hook dangled off one end.

She lifted the mysterious object up by its hook. "Wow! Um, what is it?"

"That..." Optimus leaned over to examine it, "...is a Rustian hope chime. Every Rustian abode has one. Ringing it brings good luck and positive energy to the home it occupies."

He held the chime by its chain when he got to his feet. The chime rang a deep tone, like an old, quiet church bell.

Mikaela touched the chime's cool, smooth surface. "Can you read the writing?"

Optimus' soft smile grew. "It's the lyrics to Christina Perri's _A Thousand Years_. Ultra Magnus was quite creative in his translation."

"Oh, my God." Elita blushed again, covered her face and giggled. She tapped the chime with her fingernails.

"Mom, I think this is perfect for the empty hook in the gaming loft ceiling."

"Yup. I was getting tired of looking at it."

"I'll be happy to hang it up tomorrow," Optimus said.

"Awesome." She gathered all her birthday paraphernalia. "I'm gonna call Mags and thank him. It's not a stupid hour for that on Cybertron, is it?"

Optimus replied, "It's early morning on the Sea of Rust, so no. Go ahead."

"Thanks. Really, you guys, thanks. Best birthday ever."

Elita smiled and took her armfuls of stuff up to her room. Second later, an insect-like figure skittered into the brightly-lit loft and crawled laps around the pool table.

"Ack! Buggy!" She reappeared and issued a _come_ command in Cybertronian.

Buggy's scraping footsteps trailed towards her room. Optimus and Mikaela stifled their laughter until the noise quieted.

.o

Night dropped its veil overhead and cast everything in shadows. The amaranthine sky expanded outward into forever, its starry vastness untouched by Earth's recent catastrophes.

Calamity befell planet Earth before, and that never woke Unicron up. He stayed intact through an asteroid killing the dinosaurs, and he didn't rouse like Sleeping Beauty after a 'kiss' from Cybertron. If those events didn't awaken him, what would?

Hopefully, nothing.

Mikaela breathed deep. Her breath fogged the window and faded, a reminder of her brevity against the universe.

Thumping scrapes broke through her ruminations. She turned away from the picture window to look at the closed garage entrance. Last year's earthquake warped the door frame by just enough millimeters to be an occasional nuisance.

"Ugh, come on. I'm older than you and I still work!" Optimus grumbled.

Mikaela snickered at his complaining. She called out, "Honey! Push down on the doorknob!"

"No need, I have a solution."

Something slid aside and the door popped open. There stood Optimus with the crowbar in his hand like it wasn't a source of abject terror. He set it on the shelf he took it from, bent to grab a Cybertronian box and pulled the door shut behind him on his way inside.

"Calm, _calm_ ," he mumbled it to himself like a mantra. His demeanor smoothed a moment later. "Mikaela, may I turn off the lights?"

She blinked out of her reverie. "Why?"

"Darkness is necessary." Optimus set the box on the sofa. At her nod, he flipped the light switch adjacent to the kitchen door. The end table lamps by the couch shut off. He turned off the kitchen lights, too, leaving the living room pitch black.

"Close your eyes," Optimus rumbled.

"It's too dark for me to see you."

"Pedant," he murmured in her ear, his deep voice doing delicious things to unmentionable parts of her body. "I'm trying to surprise you, and it requires a set up."

Mikaela dramatically hid her face behind her hands. "Okay, boss bot. My eyes are closed and covered. Shock me."

He chuckled and the whirr of his servos moved away. The box lid squeaked. Music emanated through the stereo speakers, the uplifting piano chords of something new. She recognized Josh Groban's beautiful baritone voice the instant he began to sing. The song's title, _Granted_ , came to her when the chorus rang around the room.

 _"_... _If you have a dream go chase it_ ,  
_if you feel hope don't waste it_ ,  
_if you find love embrace it_ ,  
_and never take a single breath for granted_... _"_

"All right." Optimus' voice came from near the stairs. "You may look."

Mikaela lowered her hands and blinked in awe. _Thousands_ of twinkling white LEDs floated throughout the room, their sizes ranging from sand grains to large marbles.

 _"_... _The story's yours, go write it_!  
_Tomorrow's undecided_!  
_Our days are counted on this planet_.  
_Never take a single breath_ , _  
take a single breath for granted_... _"_

Optimus waited amid the luminescence, a celestial knight in shining armor. His polished mirror finish held her spellbound. He came forward, the LEDs shifting around him and returning to their original positions like bubbles in gel. Above him, Elita leaned on the banister with her camera phone aimed at them. She grinned impishly and gave a thumbs up.

"I know I'm a month ahead of our anniversary, but I couldn't wait." Optimus extended his metallic hand, his optics tender in the dimness. "May I have this dance, Mikaela?"

 _"_... _Maybe it's time you bet on yourself_.  
_Listen to your heart_ ,  
_just listen to your heart_  
_and nobody else_... _"_

Heat suffused Mikaela's cheeks. Her heart flip-flopped and delightful goosebumps prickled her skin. Everything leading to today started at _that_ question.

 _"_... _So go find out who you are_.  
_Only you know who you are_ ,  
_who are you_...? _"_

Time shrouded the future in darkness. Darkness turned everything into murky shadows, but it wasn't absolute. Shadows and darkness needed light to exist.

Mikaela looked up into Optimus' optics, and for a heartbeat she stood again before the mysterious bot who asked her to dance fifteen years ago. The girl robbed of her prom gazed back at him, unaware of the amazing life about to unfold.

 _"_...' _Cause all you have to lose_  
_is your best life yet_ ,  
_so go ahead_... _"_

"Okay." She took his outstretched hand and opened herself to all that was to come. Whatever happened, for better or for worse, they would face it united in love. "I'll dive in."

The past kissed the present when their hands interlocked. Optimus swung Mikaela close with a cheeky wink. They exchanged a tender kiss and spun into the starlit music.

.o

.o

 _"_... _sometimes the greatest moments_  
_we'll ever know_ __  
are when we're letting go,  
_so let go_.  
_And maybe our brightest days_  
_still wait for us in the unknown_.

 _If you have a dream go chase it_ ,  
_if you feel hope don't waste it_ ,  
_if you find love embrace it_ ,  
_and never take a single breath for granted_.  
_If you have a light, go find it_!  
_The story's yours, go write it_!  
_Our days are counted on this planet_ ,  
_so I won't take a single breath_ , _  
take a single breath for granted_! _"_

\--Josh Groban, ["Granted"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9FA9U4s3Tg)


End file.
